


Ace of Hearts

by Vinci



Series: Supernatural Blu Team [1]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Background Relationships, Control Issues, Insecurity, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sexy Sniper, So so much sexual tension, Supernatural Elements, Touch-Starved, ghost!Soldier, kind of, vampire!Sniper, werewolf!Heavy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-14 18:12:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4574700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vinci/pseuds/Vinci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy had always wondered why Sniper's death counter was at zero after every battle. He did not know that finding out why would lead him down a path he never knew existed, a path he never knew he needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Curiosity Killed The Cat

Blu team’s Spy—Emile had spent much of his life at the top. He had top marks in school, various skills rivalling that of a god and was in amazing physical form. His espionage was his greatest strength and he took pride in the fact that he was the best at his profession. He was the apex predator on the field, a lion among sheep. He rarely made mistakes and when he did, he spent hours making sure they would never happen again.

When he signed on with Builders League United as a spy, he knew he had the opportunity to showcase his skills. While performing more for himself than for others, he enjoyed seeing his kills compared to his teammates. His would normally be near the top. Though, he’d usually be overshadowed by the Heavy, Soldier or Demoman. He didn’t mind. Their classes were more destructive, more brutal. His had a finer touch, one that required more finesse than that of raw strength.

However, Spy knew that he was one of the more skilled on his team. He _knew_ he wasn’t the smartest, given the Engineer’s and Medic’s unnatural brilliance. But he did know that he had more skills than most. He obviously was better than Scout. That child couldn’t navigate his way out of a one inch maze. Spy didn’t try to compare himself to Pyro. That…creature was its own species. The Heavy and Medic’s skills were grand both separately and combined but they were more of a package deal than single people. Engineer was one of the few people Spy would call his equal. They weren’t exactly friends per se but he had to respect the man’s mind. Demoman and Soldier both had issues in the head and Spy didn’t even need to compare himself to them.

Though, the growing enigma in his mind was his Australian teammate. Sniper, or Mr. Mundy, was a strange one. He never drew attention but Spy always found himself analyzing the bushman, memorizing every part of him. Sniper was usually by himself, save for the few times Scout coaxes him out of his van or one of the other teammates insisted upon his companionship. He never refused and Spy thought he enjoyed the company.

During battle the Australian was usually in his tower, one-shotting enemies left and right. Besides the occasional Soldier or Demoman, the only enemy he really had to deal with was Red team’s Spy but he didn’t appear much of a threat given the fact that Sniper’s death counter was always at 0. That was something that caught Spy’s attention. Not even _he_ could spend an entire match alive unless he hid himself away like a coward. Everyone came out of battle with at least a few deaths except for the Sniper.

So, either Red’s Spy was incompetent or there was more to this bushman than meets the eye.

During downtime, Spy would find him either by himself at his van, in his room, his tower or pulled into something by the others. He seemed rather normal but something about that death counter made Emile pause. No man on this team should be able to survive a battle completely unharmed.

Then, that made him think that he must have been cheating or at the very least had a truce with the Red Spy. Something needed to make sense for Emile. The Spy was an amazing mercenary and he always was unable to remain unharmed.

His interest in the Sniper had grown because of that. His eyes would always find him when they were in the same room and he’d always want to watch him, slowly and carefully.

This obsession—no he wouldn’t call it that. This curiosity gave way to several observations about the Australian. Though tall and lanky, his movements were smooth and elegant, nearly effortless. They were fluid, precise and slightly captivating. He moved in a way that was entirely surprising to Spy. He had assumed that by his size, the Sniper would be awkward and stiff. But that was nothing of the sort when he crossed the room or hit Scout on the shoulder or even turned his head. There was this calculation that was only akin to cheetahs or tigers.

That was how Spy realized that it wasn’t him who was the lion among sheep. It was the Sniper.

Everything about him reflected this. Spy could see it in the fact that he never took his sunglasses off, whenever he’d catch something swiftly that was dropped and whenever a small smile that was all his own touched his face.

Was that how he remained unharmed in battle? Did he manipulate the other Spy into not touching him? What else was he hiding?

Emile needed to know. He needed to know why this man was at the top of the food chain and he wasn’t. He needed to solve the mystery of this strange man. He needed to _know._

 

His opportunity had come one evening after battle against the Reds. Sniper had, of course, been unharmed. Spy, on the other hand, had difficulty with the other team’s Pyro. The crazed arsonist had made it his sole mission to hunt him that day and Emile had died several times because of that silly creature. He could not get that stupid mask out of his mind nor his own foolishness. He shouldn’t have been so incompetent.

They were all gathered in the dining room which was simply a room with a kitchen in it. Beside the kitchen was ample space for a large table, chairs and a few couches near the walls. The team was scattered about, Engineer thankfully cooking this week. Spy, himself, was seated on one of the couches away from the others nursing a cup of coffee. Heavy—Mikhail and Medic—Alric were seated beside each other at the table, trading stories of today’s battle with Soldier. Engineer would chime in from the kitchen with the Demoman making some lazy slur of compliments. Scout and Sniper were also seated at the table, listening to their stories.

Though, Scout was yammering on about how he did the best that day, yelling about kicking the hell out of Red’s Pyro. Their own arsonist giving a thumbs up. Spy could tell Sniper was listening idly. Most of them tuned out Scout’s blabbering, only commenting when they found a discrepancy in his story.

The Sniper’s sunglasses were still on and he was leaned back into his seat, arms crossed at his chest. His lips were set into a fine line, giving nothing away. Though, Emile found that was normal for him. He never gave much in the emotion department other than a snarky smirk or a sarcastic quip. Spy watched in interest as Sniper’s finger tapped against his forearm rhythmically. From all of his watching, Mr. Mundy had never really done that. He’d usually be unnaturally still almost like a statue. No reflexive motion would plague him as it would a normal person.

However, the action stopped suddenly and Spy lifted his eyes to find the man in question gazing at him. His sunglasses made it hard to tell if he actually was but he had turned his head away from the main conversation and towards him. Spy couldn’t gauge the Sniper’s response to his staring, his lips remaining steadily straight. However, a slight quirk of his eyebrow was all he could find that changed.

Spy should have looked away the moment Mundy had locked eyes with him but it would have made him seem like an embarrassed school girl. He would hold the Australian’s gaze for an eternity if it meant maintaining his pride. Though, he was at a clear disadvantage in this battle given the fact that he had no aviators to hide his eyes.

They remained like that for quite some time, the main conversation changing into something more mundane. Spy could see the reflection of the Scout on the Australian’s glasses, arms flailing as he spoke so loudly that he could break a window. However, his words never found Emile. His attention was drawn elsewhere to something more…interesting.

He could feel the weight of Sniper’s gaze, heavy and dominating even from such a distance. It strangely thrilled him, making his heart stutter for a fraction of a second. He had never had all of the Sniper’s attention before. They’d both either be in the shadows or not concerned with one another. But right now, Sniper was all his.

Spy’s brow quirked upward at that though he didn’t dwell on it, his eyes falling to the Australian’s lips. Their small movement had caught him and he watched as they parted slowly, a hot breath falling from the bushman’s lips. Then, his tongue drifted outward, methodically and captivatingly swiping over his bottom lip. The motion was fascinating. Even that was as elegant as the rest of his actions.

However, finally, Spy was startled out of his trance by the Engineer announcing that dinner was ready. Plates of mashed potatoes and chicken and vegetables were passed around and he absently thanked the Engineer for the meal. He ate it slowly, training his eyes on anything and everything that wasn’t the Sniper.

He had settled on Medic who had just spoon-fed Heavy some of his mashed potatoes. The large Russian grinned at him and Emile rolled his eyes at the happy couple. Their love was blinding him. Whatever had made these two think that it was possible to hide their relationship from the others was beyond him. Everyone knew there was something between them the moment they first met. They became fast friends and soon after they became lovers. Everyone had known. They weren’t exactly subtle.

After several of the other teammates berated Scout for his insensitivity, the couple was welcomed with open arms. Emile didn’t mind at all. He actually didn’t care what they did off the field as long as they were still good at their jobs.

He gave in to temptation and glanced at Sniper who was mindlessly pushing about his food, only occasionally popping food into his mouth. Scout was animatedly detailing something about baseball to the Australian but even Spy could see that it was going over his head. Regardless, the bushman was giving him as much attention as he could. They always wanted to humor the boy. Or, at least, everyone else did.  

Spy let out a deep sigh, rolling his eyes. He was being silly. His constant stares were becoming ridiculous and he had finally been caught. This strange interest in the Sniper needed to stop. He was a professional for Christ’s sake. There was no time for this petty…whatever this was.

He was a suave, stoic, debonair Frenchman. A gaze from an Australian shouldn’t have affected him so much.

But…

Spy looked up to find the Sniper had disappeared from his seat, food pushed about on his plate. He looked around but the man wasn’t in the room anymore. He turned to the doorway and, to his surprise, he found Sniper staring at him. The Australian raised his hand and beckoned him with a single finger, disappearing into the hallway.

Spy had to scoff at that. He was no dog. He wasn’t at Sniper’s beck and call. He could simply refuse and stay seated and continue eating.

He tapped his fork on his plate before cursing every Australian in existence. He stood up swiftly, placing his plate next to Heavy at the table. He knew either the Russian or Scout would finish it for him.

He exited into the hallway, eyes finding the Sniper’s figure moving further and further down the corridor. He turned his head, a small smirk on his face before disappearing up the stairs. Spy frowned, following after him in annoyance. They continued up the stairs, Spy only barely seeing Sniper turn a corner as he emerged into another hallway.

Emile knew where he was taking him. They were closing in on Sniper’s tower. One final set of stairs would lead up to the high building.

He took out his cigarettes in frustration, putting one between his lips and lighting it furiously. He took in a long drag before breathing out in a huff. Why was he even following after the bushman anyway? Curiosity? Infatuation?

He nearly laughed at that.

Sniper was no longer in the hallway, the ascent up the stairs strangely lonely.

Spy could see the door wide open, darkness beckoning him forward. Adrenaline touched him as he moved towards the opening. Something didn’t feel right.

He emerged into the small room, eyes struggling to adjust. The moon was the only light as it streamed in through the only window in the room. It illuminated a small stool and rifle and nothing else. Spy squinted, turning about the moment he reached the center of the room, shoes shimmering beneath the moon. The Sniper was nowhere in sight though he could have simply been hiding in the shadows of the walls, waiting for some specific moment to appear.

Spy frowned as he took another drag of his cigarette, smoke a beautiful tendril against the moonlight.

He didn’t like being the prey.

“I wonder about ya, Spook.” Sniper’s voice nearly startled him, a velvety rhythm of bass and accent.

“Oh?” He quirked a brow, choosing to face a wall adjacent to the window. He raised his arm to give him easy access to his cigarette, feigning neutrality.

“I wonder why yer always staring at me.” He replied.

Spy swallowed, choosing his words carefully. “You interest me.”

A short laugh touched the darkness but he couldn’t pinpoint its exact location. It was completely silent in the room and he had to wonder if he was being circled like a trapped animal.

“Really? Why?”

“Your death counter is strange. It is always zero after a battle. You never die. It made me wonder if the Red Spy was an idiot or if you were more than you appear.” There was no need to lie to the man.

“Do ya want to know why?” Sniper’s voice had grown deeper, making a shiver run down his spine. A wave of wind spilled in from the cracked window.

“If you would indulge me,” He said waving his hand.

Though, he suddenly realized there was no weight to it. He looked down at it to find his cigarette had gone missing, disappearing from his fingers. He scanned the ground to see if he had dropped it but it was nowhere in sight. He then heard a slow intake of air, smoke peeking in from the darkness in front of him. He looked up to find Sniper stepping from within it, Spy’s cigarette perched between his fingers. A smirk touched the bushman’s face and Emile had to blink at him speechless.

How…?

He really didn’t know what to say. How had Sniper done that? He knew the man was light-footed but he would have at least heard something with him having been that close. A-A piece of fabric or the feel of the damn cigarette being slid from his fingers. Something would have told him that the Sniper had been so close to him. Anything.

Spy felt confused, realization making him frown. Was the Sniper actually a better spy than he was?

The bushman took a deep drag of the cigarette, deliberately blowing smoke across the Frenchman’s face. Spy looked up, a cutting insult at his tongue. However, he was suddenly stopped by Sniper raising his hand and lifting his sunglasses just enough to reveal his eyes. They were a lush, illuminating green like that of crisp grass or a beautiful temperate forest. And they were so bright that Emile could pick out his pupils. It was as if they were glowing.

“Don’t move.” He heard the Australian say and he furrowed his brows. “Don’t speak.”

Why on Earth would he obey—

His entire body froze in place, arm still lingering in the air. His shoulders grew rigid, feet glued to the floor. He was completely and utterly immobile. His mind screamed for something to move but nothing would listen to him, enchanted by those beautiful eyes.

Sniper looked him up and down for a brief moment before depositing his sunglasses on the stool. He rolled his shoulders casually, circling the Frenchman slowly, almost voraciously. Spy’s heart would stutter every time he disappeared from view only to reappear moments after on his other side.

“I ‘spose I wouldn’t have been able to keep it secret for long.” He was behind him now, voice like a ghost at his shoulder. “I never die because I kill everyone before they can kill me. Simple, I know. But the thing is, I can hear the Red Spy approaching from a mile away. Bloke don’t know what hit him. I can hear anyone actually. Old Spook must be enraged.”

Sniper reappeared in front of him, cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers. He stepped closer, eyes studying him so intensely that he felt like falling to the ground. His heart thundered in his chest, adrenaline peeking through the cracks. Spy hated how his eyes drifted over Sniper’s shoulders, his arms, up his neck and back up to his face. Watched the Australian’s lips curl into a smile, stubble touching his jawline like a tease. His eyes were so bright and so captivating, a beacon in the darkness.

“I can do that for the same reason I can keep you nice and quiet.” He said, so close that Spy thought he would be swallowed up. “I ain’t human.”

His eyes widened. He would have pushed away from the man if he had any control over his body.

“Speak.” Sniper whispered and his lips trembled into motion.

“You…You…what are you…you cannot be serious.” He sputtered out. He hated how he sounded so unlike himself.

“Well, I was human.” Sniper grinned, baring his teeth and allowing one long fang to reveal itself. “Ain’t anymore.”

“This is a joke.” He breathed out. “Tu es fou.”

He shrugged, flicking the cigarette out the window. “How come ya can’t move then?”

Spy took in a deep breath, willing any part of his body to do anything. All it did was make him tremble. “Then what are you?”

Sniper idley ran a thumb over his jaw before saying, “I’m a vampire.”

Spy had to laugh at that, nervously and unevenly. “Il est fou et je vais mourir dans une tour dans un désert paumé au milieu de nulle part.”

“Pardon?”

“You are crazy.” He said, reminding himself that he knew the English language.

The bushman silently tilted his head to the side, lips drawing back into that emotionless line. His gaze flickered downward towards Spy’s neck, letting out a long sigh. Emile could have sworn that the man was trembling slightly as he gazed down at him. “Might have to show ya.”

“Wh—”

Sniper touched a finger to the shorter man’s lips, silencing him. He lowered his hand, resting it at the small of Spy’s back and bringing him so close that their chests touched. Spy hated how his body reacted, hated how hot Sniper’s hand was at his back, hated how he loved it.

Sniper lifted his other hand and cradled his neck, tilting his head to the side and lifting his mask up just enough to expose his skin. He lowered his head, lips lightly touching the newly revealed skin. Spy shivered, body reacting to the slight touch so wholeheartedly.

The Australian took in a sharp breath as if taking in his scent, blowing the air back out his mouth and spreading goosebumps down his captive’s body. He nuzzled the curve of Spy’s neck, pausing there for an indefinite amount of time.

“Want me to do it?” He asked against him, voice a melodic masterpiece.

Spy opened his mouth, an insult at the ready. However, it was replaced by a long breath of air. His heart was beating out of his chest, the heat surrounding him making him dizzy. Perhaps he was going crazy as well.

“Oui.” He said hoarsely.      

Sniper opened his mouth, fangs easily sinking into his flesh. Spy gasped out as a sharp pain radiated from his neck, immediately releasing his body to him. His raised hand fell over top of Sniper’s forearm, the other finding his shirt just at the belt. The Australian hummed and he felt it travel down his back.

The pain was almost too much…until it wasn’t. It disappeared entirely, replaced by something that made Spy’s eyes flutter. A short breath fell from his lips as heat pooled around his entire body, pleasure dripping from Sniper’s lips. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time, a wash of euphoria flooding Spy’s veins.

He became hypersensitive to Sniper’s chest against his, the hands at his neck and back and the press of lips against him. It was good. Too good. So good. _Marvelous_.

This feeling was going to destroy him, make him go supernova. He finally succumbed to it, a moan falling from his lips. His hand slid upward until it was tangled within the Australian’s hair, his hat having fallen off at some point. His other hand had somehow drifted beneath Sniper’s shirt, grabbing at whatever he could.

“Take it…all.” He heard himself say which was strange because it didn’t feel like he did.

The room began to spin, the moonlight a wavy streak. Darkness touched the corner of his eyes and his strength was falling from him. Sniper’s grip on his back tightened considerably before he threw his head back, chest rising and falling as he regained his composure. Spy watched him lazily, relying on Sniper’s hands to keep him upright as his body began to grow rigid again. He was staring up at the ceiling, inhaling and exhaling loudly, shoulders matching the rhythm.

Finally, he blew out a stream of hot air, lowering his head and gazing back down at the Spy. His lips were haphazardly painted red, the liquid sliding down his chin. His eyes had grown even brighter, pupils dilated and the color almost blinding in the night. However, the Spy would have called him stunning.

"Sniper’s words were thick with something the other man couldn’t point out. “Believe me now?”

His lips twitched upward before his eyes fluttered, drifting into unconscious.                       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexy Sniper is life.
> 
> I also can't write accents to save my life.
> 
> Orz
> 
> Spy's french:  
> 1\. You are insane.  
> 2\. He is crazy and I am going to die in a tower in a godforsaken desert in the middle of nowhere.  
> Spy wasn't exactly thinking straight.


	2. Behind The Scope

Spy’s eyes fell open, morning light streaming in through his window. He sat up slowly, stretching his arms above him, sleep falling from his limbs. He touched his face to find his mask still on which was strange given the fact that he would take it off to sleep. He looked down to find that he was also still in his suit, confusion blossoming. On his white dress shirt was a red spot, one that reminded him of the time that he had accidentally cut himself with his knife and hadn’t noticed until he raised his hand up. Blood had instantly dripped onto his shirt.

_“Believe me now?”_

Had Emile been a little schoolgirl his face would have turned into a tomato. Luckily for him, he wasn’t. But that didn’t stop his heart from fluttering slightly or stop his mind from replaying everything that had happened last night. He couldn’t believe the bushman was a real vampire. He had chalked supernatural beings into the nonexistent category in his mind as a child but right now he was throwing everything he knew about folk tales and horror stories into the reality category.

He should have been more concerned about an actual vampire living in the same building as him. Perhaps it was because he had just woken up or it was because he hadn’t had his coffee yet. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t care just has he didn’t care for the Heavy and Medic’s relationship as long as it did nothing to him.

He had performed so improperly last night. His mother would have slapped him ten times if she had known how he acted. And Sniper had seen him act so…pathetically. He had an image to maintain and it didn’t help that he had come undone in front of the Australian. He shouldn’t have let himself go so far. He didn’t _want_ himself to. He thought.

Perhaps he didn’t know himself that well.

And having Sniper so close to him had felt…it felt…

No. He would not indulge that thought. He had no time for this. He was a professional and he needed to act like it. So what if Sniper was a vampire? It did nothing to do with him and it did nothing to his performance so there was no issue. He would go back to the way it was before he had learned the Sniper’s little secret. Easy.

He stood up and stepped towards the mirror. He stripped off his mask and suit, gazing at himself blankly. He squared his eyes at the curve of his neck and was surprised to find no bite marks. It was as fresh as the day he was born. He lightly touched the skin, fingers tingling. His hand drifted to the back of his neck where Sniper had cradled him, remembering the heat that had touched his entire body.

His eyes fluttered closed as he felt Sniper’s lips at his neck again, soft and—

“Oh, no you do not!” He said roughly, snapping his eyes open and throwing his hands back down. “You can stand on the edge of the cliff as much as you like but do not dare fall over.”

He huffed, frowning at himself. It might not be as easy as he thought.

 

Spy entered the kitchen and was disappointed to find everyone already there, including the Sniper. They were all huddled around the table except for the Engineer who was making breakfast. Soldier was loudly voicing the fact that there would be a battle in an hour and that “You maggots better be ready or so help me I will grab you by the base of your soul and throw you onto that battlefield!”

Spy rolled his eyes as he poured himself a cup of coffee, deliberately avoiding Sniper’s stare. He stepped over to the table and stood behind the Medic who was, of course, sitting beside his Heavy. They both gave him a nod before returning their attention to Soldier. Scout had voiced a complaint that had the American hit him across the head.

Spy chuckled quietly, downing his coffee like it was the fountain of youth. His eyes had involuntarily fell to Sniper but he couldn’t tell if the huntsman was looking back at him. His aviators made it impossible to know where his gaze was. Though, now that he knew _why_ he wore them he couldn’t stay frustrated about them.

Memories of the Australian’s bright green eyes flooded back into his mind and he fought to squish them back down. They had been so beautiful and so powerful. Spy was sure he would have fallen to the ground beneath his gaze had he not been forced to stay motionless which he was still angry about. _He_ should be the one giving commands. Though, he didn’t actually mind—

Stop that. Emotions were useless.

He rolled his eyes again and realized the Soldier had just finished briefing them. They were dismissed and Spy hurriedly exited the room before he met the Sniper’s gaze again.

He busied himself with cleaning his gun and sharpening his knife. He smoothed down the wrinkles on his suit and tightened his tie, frowning as he remembered the stain on his other shirt. Regardless, he checked his watch and saw that it was nearly time to battle. He entered the gate room which led out into the rest of 2fort. The others were already there save for the Sniper who was probably already waiting in his tower.

The Medic was hurriedly overhealing the others as they passed by and the Heavy was shouldering Sacha like she weighed nothing. The Demoman and Soldier were betting who would kill the most and the Engineer had come up and kissed the American on the cheek with a laugh, saying that it would be neither of them. Another couple Spy was indifferent to. Scout was stretching his legs, twirling his gun in his hand as he whistled a tune Pyro was swaying to.

Something made Spy turn his head back towards the inside of their base. His eyes drifted down the hallway and he sighed. He wanted to speak to Sniper again to ask questions but he was afraid he could become overwhelmed and lose control again. He _always_ wanted to be in control. He was a predator. He stalked his prey like he was digging for gold. It wasn’t the other way around.

Though, last night, Sniper had been the predator, luring his prey right into his nest. He had circled him like a scavenger ready to pounce. He had to admit that it was exhilarating but also terrifying. All of Sniper’s attention had been on him and him alone. He had commanded dominance the moment Spy had stepped into his room and it was so strange. Spy had never been the one who was submissive. But Sniper had claimed dominance the moment he laid eyes on him in the kitchen. Spy had no control around him and it unsettled him.

But it also thrilled him.

The Announcer’s voice fell over the intercom, counting down painfully slowly. She finally reached zero and the gates fell open. The others rushed out with battle cries and yells but Spy stayed right where he was. He spotted Engineer make a beeline to their intelligence beneath their base and he glanced at his watch to spot the time. The other team’s Spy would be heading down to stop his progress and Emile had to keep that from happening for about five or so minutes until the Engineer had everything settled.

Of course, the American didn’t know of Emile’s protection. It was better that way.

He had made quick work of the enemy spy, sliding his knife from the pathetic man’s back. He glanced around the corner to find the Engineer completely set up, leaning against his dispenser. An explosion rocketed above them and Spy readied his knife only to find the Soldier dropping down from a ledge and onto the dispenser. He grinned at the Texan and the Engineer pressed a kiss to his lips after nodding at something he said.

Spy scoffed and made his way out of the room. Soldier would probably be protecting him for a long time like he normally did and Spy moved somewhere he would be more useful. He bit his lip as he cloaked, eyes skyrocketing the moment he emerged outside. He could see the barrel of the Sniper’s gun peeking out through a window and he let out a sigh.

He couldn’t resist.

He jogged back to their base, scanning around for anyone suspicious. The Scout had just respawned and the Bostonian gave him a huge grin before running back into the thick of it. Spy moved out of the entrance and down the hall where he had followed Sniper the night before. He hesitated at the last set of stairs, eyes finding the door shut.

Spy shook his head of whatever that was and moved up the steps, hand circling around the door knob. It was locked of course but he had made quick work of it and slid the door open. He found Sniper sitting on his stool, gun aimed at some poor fellow. Spy made sure to close and lock the door again before moving closer.

Sniper didn’t even seem to notice his presence and Spy had to marvel at the hard set of his shoulders as he held the gun. His lips were parted slightly, one eye squinted with the bottom of his sunglasses sat atop the scope. He fired, the gun making a loud ringing sound as it thrust backwards. The Aussie didn’t even flinch.

He finally lowered the gun, aviators sliding back down his face. He turned his head and nodded at the Spy.

“I could have been an enemy.” The Frenchman sighed, shaking his head at the man’s lack of concern.

“I knew it was you.” He said simply, readying his gun again.         

“How?”

“Footsteps, heartbeat, that kind of stuff,” He rattled off as he fired again.

Spy hummed before stepped closer, hand nearly brushing the man’s shoulder. “You know that about me?”

“I know that about everyone. Heavy’s like a mammoth to me. Pyro is so quiet that it gets hard to here ‘em.”

“What else can you hear?” He asked curiously.

“Soldier’s yelling that he just killed number 15 whatever that means. Heavy, Medic and Pyro are runnin’ around together I think. Though, it might be the Red Pyro…” He trailed off as he aimed. He fired and then continued seamlessly. “I can’t tell. I don’t know much about the other team but since their classes are the same as ours we are built about the same. That’s why I don’t know if that is our Pyro or…no, that was their’s. Just died.”

“Amazing,” Spy said with a nod. “You are a vampire. Why do you stick to sniping when you can do so much more?”

“I like bein’ in control.” He shrugged, firing again. “When you’re in my scope, you’re not in control of your life anymore. ‘s mine. Your life is mine. I determine if you live or die whether I pull the trigger or not. Kinda sick but I’m a vampire. Who gives a shit?”

Spy processed this information quietly, hands balling into fists. He wasn’t the only one who loved control. It was just that Sniper could take his with the flick of his wrist.

“Is that why you took control of my body yesterday?” He asked with a frown.

“No.” He had said that after a long pause and Spy liked to think it was because he was trailing a target and not telling him what he wanted to hear. “I just didn’t know if ya were going to hightail it out of here the moment I told ya what I was. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Spy rolled his eyes, moving so that he could peer out the window.  He saw their Medic hurrying to heal the Soldier who had just dropped down from a rocket jump as the Heavy covered them. The Red Demo was popping shots at them from across the bridge, their Sniper huddled around a corner. Though, both men were easily disposed of by the gentleman beside him, a slight ringing touching Spy’s ears from the rifle.

He pushed back, leaning against the wall next to the window, eyes narrowing as he gazed down at his companion. The Sniper had raised his glasses again as he aimed for another target. The slight emerald glow of his eyes touched the rim of his scope, trained on some poor soul on the battlefield. His shoulders were drawn back, right elbow resting lightly against his leg with the other supporting his rifle.

He did indeed look like a hunter but he seemed different. Perhaps it was because Spy knew that he was more than human, that each move he made was that of a killer bred to hunt Man. Sniper appeared taller, stronger, more confident. There were subtle differences about him that wouldn’t have been found had Spy not been looking for them. His muscles were more defined as well, taut at his arms and chest. He hadn’t been like this yesterday. Though, the darkness could hide many things and Spy hadn’t been an observant little fox. There had been more important things to worry about.

“Yer staring at me again, mate.” Sniper mumbled as he finished topping a Scout.

“How far does your need for control go?” He asked, ignoring the Aussie’s statement more for his pride than anything.

“I didn’t say I _needed_ it. I jus’ like it. Not like you.”

“Me?”

“Ya ain’t the only one who’s been staring at people.” He smirked, looking up at him. “I can tell that you need it more than me.”

Spy crossed his arms defiantly. “I am no control freak.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, mate.” Sniper said. They remained silent for a brief moment before a smile crossed the Aussie’s lips. “Come ‘ere,”

Emile furrowed his brow as the man scooted back in his stool which was not much given its size. He playfully patted the spot he had just made and the Frenchman rolled his eyes at him, looking away like a spoiled child. He was not going to indulge the man any further. He wasn’t going to let this go any further. He knew he was already losing control, the room falling towards Sniper’s favor.

Perhaps his control had already disappeared the moment he stepped into the tower. Or perhaps it had gone from him yesterday in the kitchen. He had to have it back. He _needed_ it back. He wasn’t a simpleton at the ready for anyone’s command. He was his own individual. He didn’t need to sit down nor did he need to stay in the room.

Though, his eyes did linger on the spot far too long. So long, that the Sniper had reached out and taken his arm. It was a swift and sudden movement that was slightly blurred by its speed. He tugged gently, releasing Spy’s arm from the confines of his chest. They stared at each other for quite some time, Spy condescendingly and Sniper patiently.

Finally, the Frenchman conceded and deposited himself in the seat. He settled between Sniper’s legs, back brushing against his chest. That same warmth touched him, surrounded him to a lesser degree than it did last night. It took all of his willpower not to lean back into it and succumb to it, drift further and further down the rabbit hole. They were so close to each other that Spy could feel the man’s breath against his neck and his legs against his own.

“What now?” He asked softly, voice wavering slightly.

“Take hold of the rifle.” It was a whisper at his ear, a shiver down his back.

“But I do not kno—”

Sniper had moved then, hands rising up to take Spy’s and guiding them onto the rifle. He settled his hands beneath the barrel and at the trigger, lowering his own to rest at the man’s waist.

“The other team’s Heavy is running around down there. Find him and kill him.”

Spy took in a deep breath, that heat drifting around him and settling beneath Sniper’s palms. He leaned forward, squeezing one eye closed to look down the scope. After finding much of his team pinned down around a corner, he followed their gunfire across the bridge and towards Red’s Heavy shooting as if he had infinite bullets. He lined the giant’s head with the crosshairs and paused as he determined whether he’d miss or not.

“He ain’t moving so that’s good. But he could move at any moment.” Sniper whispered, chin touching his shoulder. “His life is yours now.”

Spy’s heart sped to a thousand beats per second as he absorbed the man’s words. He gazed down at Red’s Heavy laughing about baby cowards. The Russian had no idea of the imminent danger, of Spy’s hold on his existence. He could shoot and end it instantly. Of course, he’d respawn after a few moments but right now he was Spy’s.

He wondered if Red’s Heavy had a romance with his own Medic like theirs did or if he thought of his Scout as a ‘leetle baby man’ like Mikhail did Thomas. He wondered if the other team had as much fun as they did or whether they were as close as they were. Spy wasn’t exactly best friends with everyone but there was this silent comradery in Blu, an almost familial tie. He wouldn’t die for his companions but he’d do what he could to keep them safe. It was his job after all.

“When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger. You’ve fired a weapon before but this one has a nasty kick.” Sniper’s voice seemed distant, distracted as if his attention was elsewhere.

Spy wanted to turn around to see what was wrong but he was afraid the Heavy might move if he did. Instead, he took in a deep breath and just like his pistols, gently pulled the trigger of the rifle. He saw the Heavy’s skull crack open before he was violently thrown back by the recoil. He hit against Sniper’s chest, hands nearly dropping the weapon. He had expected a kick but he hadn’t of thought it would be so strong. Sniper fired as if it weighed nothing.

He lowered his hands so that the rifle lolled back into its fixture just as the Aussie took in a deep breath, hot air tumbling back out his mouth and onto Spy’s neck. His hands tightened at the Frenchman’s side before lulling back into a gentle presence.

“Ya liked it didn’t ya?” That same thickness was in his voice just as it had been yesterday.

He did. It was exhilarating. It was even better than plunging a knife into another’s spine.

Though, at the moment, he was wondering about the man behind him whose hands had begun to tremble against him. Had Sniper just smelled him? He had done that yesterday before he bit him and Spy had to wonder if he wanted to do it again. It had felt amazing and having Sniper that close to him had been intoxicating. He had never been the center of attention before and Sniper’s had all be on him that night.

But Spy’s control had gone out the window. He had let the man get inside his head at dinner and was letting him do what he wanted even now. It was as if he had no willpower around the Aussie, all of it somehow disappearing from existence the moment he even thinks of him. It was frightening. No one was able to affect him this much. All his life he had the upper hand, the advantage. He was always the king. But Sniper was like a god amongst men, letting them play about while he held the real power.

Spy hated how much he loved it.

“Do you want to bite me again?” He asked, hands grasping the fabric of his pants.

Sniper let out a short laugh, hands tightening at Spy’s side. It was a while before he said anything, nose nearly buried in his neck. “Doesn’t matter, mate. Don’t wanna kill ya. I took a little too much yesterday.”

“What does it matter? I will respawn.” He said, impatience laced between his words.

Sniper had paused again, turning over what he said in his mind. “I don’t know if you’d come back from that.”

Engineer had said something about certain deaths only being registered by respawn. Death by supernatural being probably wasn’t one of them. Though blood loss may be. Spy should have paid more attention during that mandatory meeting. As much as he wanted the man to bite him, Emile valued his life more. Alas.

“Fine,” He sighed, shrugging. “How often do you need to feed anyway?”

“Depends on physical excretion, mental strain, stress, that sort of stuff. Typically its once a week.” Sniper had replied, his voice returning to normal.

“Once a week? Have you been feeding off of the others?”

“Ew, no. Animal blood will do but it doesn’t have the same effect as human blood. You were the first in a _long_ time.” He scoffed.

A pleasant feeling fluttered Spy’s heart but he squashed it down almost instantly. Stay on that cliff.

The sudden yell of the Engineer startled them both and Spy leaned over just in time to see the Red Spy cloak and disappear back to his base. He must have managed to sap the Texan’s machines while the Soldier was out. Spy checked his watch rigidly before letting out a sigh. It would take about five or so seconds for him to respawn and then a few minutes for him to get his things back up.

Any reason to get out of this room was a good reason.

Spy stood up, feeling rather cold without the heat at his back. He dusted imaginary lint from his suit, readjusting his tie as he stepped away from the stool. He chanced a glance down at the Sniper who was simply staring down at his rifle, chest rising and falling slowly.

“Engineer just respawned. He’s angry.” He said shortly.

“That means I ‘ave about ten seconds to return to the intelligence.” Spy replied, eyes narrowing after realizing that the Aussie knew what he did for the Engineer.

“Au revoir,” He huffed, hurrying out of the room without a second glance.

Sniper sat up straighter, eyes falling to his trembling hands. He clenched them tightly before whispering, “What am I doing?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh these two. =.=
> 
> And accents are my downfall


	3. Starry Night

It had been a few days since that moment in the Sniper’s tower. Spy had chosen to ignore whatever feelings were bubbling within him and continue with his life like he normally did. He had been avoiding the Australian for those few days but now he was going restless. His eyes would drift to the huntsman or he’d find himself wondering at what he was doing at the moment. It was ridiculous.

He was by no means craving the Sniper’s attention. No he was not.

He was no dog. He was a suave Frenchman, independent of everyone and everything. He needed no one and he didn’t want anyone. He could handle himself by himself like he had done his entire life. He. Needed. No. One.

His mastery of himself was what he prided in. He had control because he was powerful, dangerous and intimidating person. He had always been that kind of person, the mastermind in the shadows. He would control a situation not someone else. He would never become undone because of another person. It. Never. Happened.

Spy sighed as he swirled the coffee in his cup. Medic was lamenting about the fact that he had very little test subjects, eyes obviously trained on the Scout. Mikhail’s hand was at his back and it reminded Emile of Sniper’s at his. The man in question trailed into the kitchen behind Soldier and Demoman with Pyro greeting them from the stove. The madman was a surprisingly good cook.

Soldier had deposited himself beside Engineer on the couch, arm wrapping around his shoulder. All that did was remind Spy of Sniper again and he angrily blew air onto his coffee. He stared down at it, aware that Sniper was passing him to sit at the table. Did that man even need to sleep?

Soldier began rattling on about the day’s battle and Spy couldn’t help but notice the grimace on Sniper’s face as he sat beside Scout. The Australian frowned, nose twitching like a rabbit’s. He flicked Thomas on the arm and the Bostonian looked up at him, an insult at his tongue. Before he could voice it, Sniper lifted up his glasses and murmured something to him that caused him to stand up suddenly.

“Where are you headed, maggot?” Soldier asked loudly, fist waving in the air.

“Gonna go take a shower, geez.” He said sticking his tongue out before running down the hallway.

Spy noticed that Sniper looked particularly smug and he had to roll his eyes at him. The compulsion ability must come in handy. Spy knew firsthand what it felt like and he was surprised that the Scout had acted so nonchalantly about his shower command. Sniper must have made him forget about him even doing it because Spy had remembered. He supposed there was no need to obliterate his memories since Sniper had told him his secret.

But, that also meant that he didn’t _need_ to have told him. He could have simply wiped his memories and have been done with it. Why did he tell him? There had literally been no need to. Was it because he was tired of animal blood? Was Emile just a body to him? And what was the Sniper to him? An odd fascination? A simple distraction in a boring routine?

He was sure he was still on the cliff, at the edge, but still standing tall. There would be no falling anytime soon. Or perhaps he was already tumbling, crashing down to the ground.

He frowned, lowering his mug to a side table.

Of course he wasn’t. It was silly to even indulge this imagery.

He sighed, filing out of the kitchen with the others after they finished eating. What was happening to him?

 

The day’s battle ended with Blu’s victory and the team celebrated triumphantly at dinner, loudly telling tales of the day’s adventures. Though, it was mostly Soldier, Scout and Heavy yelling between each other. Demoman was nearly passed out drunk and Pyro was making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. Engineer and Medic were quietly watching their lovers trade blows and Spy was seated beside them on the couch. Sniper was leaning against the wall, watching everything unfold.

“Insufferable teammates,” Spy muttered as he crossed his arms.

“You know you love ‘em.” Engineer laughed, Texan accent wrapped between the words.

“Zere is a certain charm about zem.” Medic smiled.

“Charm,” He spat, rolling his eyes. “It is the strangest charm in existence.”

His gaze drifted over to the Sniper again whose plate of food was left untouched at the counter. He must not need to eat. Now that he thought about it, Spy barely ever saw the man consume anything. He wondered what else the Aussie didn’t need to do now that he wasn’t human anymore. How old was he exactly? When was he turned? Could he die?

Spy wanted to ask him all of these questions but he couldn’t bring himself to go back up to the tower during battle or find him during downtime. He knew it was partly because of his desire to remain in control. He knew that if he followed Sniper anywhere, he’d surrender it unwillingly. The Australian had that strange effect on him. It was as if he had no choice in the matter. He belonged to Sniper in those moments.

He should have been angry about that, enraged. He should have been puffing his chest up and acting like the Soldier whenever his masculinity was questioned. He should have yelled to the world that he was his own man with his own willpower. No one would be able to hold him down nor control him. He should have screamed it to the heavens.

But, strangely, he didn’t particularly mind. He couldn’t doubt the excitement he felt whenever Sniper would take control of the situation or when his attention was solely on the Frenchman. It was thrilling to know that he had finally found someone who was king at dominance. He _loved_ it actually.

Whenever they’d touch, it would be like fire against Spy’s skin. Sniper was strong and Spy could feel it every time his hands were on him. They were hot and heavy and everything he wanted them to be. Sniper’s touch was an addiction and Spy knew that. Given the fact that it had also been quite some time since he had been touched by another person, Sniper’s hands were a godsend. The few times they had been on him were the best moments of his life. Sniper did indeed enjoy control and that transferred to his fingertips, demanding and rigid.

His fork fell from his grasp as he remembered how close they had been when Spy killed the enemy Heavy. He had been pressed up against Sniper, a comforting warmth that surrounded him wholeheartedly. Even before that, when Sniper had shown him where to put his hands on the rifle, he had felt electricity against his gloves. It had struck his entire body like a lightning bolt. He wanted to feel that again.

“Spah!” Engineer said so loudly at his ear that he blinked right out of his stupor.

He turned to find his fork held in the Texan’s hand while the Medic looked over his shoulder curiously.

“Merci,” He mumbled as he took the utensil and placed it back on his plate.

“Ya looked as if you were contemplating quantum mechanics, son.”

“Ja, vat vere you zinking about?” Medic asked curiously.

“I merely drifted off. I was not particularly thinking about anything.” He lied, willing his heart to return to a normal rhythm.

“Ah. I know zat. Happens to me all ze time.” The German said though he shared a glance with the Texan beside him.

“Excusez-moi,” He said, depositing his plate in the sink and hurrying out of the room.

He rolled his eyes at himself as he lit a cigarette, moving towards the back entrance to 2fort. He escaped into the night, cool air welcoming him. The moon held itself high in the sky, a bright sliver of white in a sea of tiny specks of light. There were so many stars out that it felt as if someone had spilt marbles on the heavens. Just like Red team, Blu’s back entrance led into the vast expanse of the Badlands. Various hoodoos and rock formations could be seen in the distance but only dust and sand were around 2fort.  

Spy took a long drag of his cigarette and let the cold air lower his rising body temperature. He purged his mind of his previous thoughts and nearly hit himself for how he was acting. He was coming undone. He could see it happening and no amount of cigarettes or coffee cups could stop it from happening. Control was slipping from him even now. He had let his mind wander in the kitchen and his teammates had noticed.

They shouldn’t be able to notice anything about him. He normally kept his expressions neutral which was easy since he was always wearing his mask but somehow Engineer and Medic had noticed something change about him. He must have looked like an idiot, all doe-eyed and pensive. He even dropped his damn fork.

The cliff’s edge looked mighty fine right about now.

Spy threw his cigarette to the dirt and crushed it beneath his feet. He finally noticed Sniper’s camper just a little ways away and atop it he could see the man lying on his back looking up at the stars.

Emile turned around immediately, hand already turning the doorknob. He stopped himself, eyes staring daggers into a crease on the door. His mind wanted him to do two separate things. Go to the bushman and go back inside. He stood there debating, foot tapping on the ground. If he decided to go to the Sniper, his control would immediately be wrapped around the Australian’s pinky. If he decided to go back inside, he’d simply return to the kitchen if the others were still eating or go to his room and read. He was leaning more towards the latter, simplicity taking the reins.

Though, curiosity and something else were brushing their way past it, making him let go of the doorknob and turn around. Sniper hadn’t moved from his spot and Spy bit his lip. It would be as if he were desperately running to his master for attention, begging for a reward. He might as well have put dog ears and a tail on. But…his interest was outweighing his desire for control. He wanted to feed his growing addiction even though he also wanted to stop it. He was an enigma wrapped up in a shitty puzzle.  

“Merde,” He hissed as he started trudging towards the van. He stood on his tiptoes to see the top of the camper and cleared his throat. “Some assistance please?”

He heard the Sniper chuckle. The Aussie rose to a kneeling position and held his hand out to him. Spy took it gingerly, heat spreading pleasantly across his palm. Sniper easily lifted him up onto the roof and returned to his previous position. Emile shifted to stretch his legs out in front of himself and looked down at the man beside him. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head and sunglasses resting over his eyes.

“How are you even able to still see with those things on?” Spy sighed, gesturing towards the aviators.

Sniper’s lips curled into a smile and he said, “I can see pretty well.”

“Well, there is no need to ‘ave them on around me.” He huffed, reaching out and pulling them off of the man’s face.

He found him staring up at him, greens eyes wildly bright. Spy couldn’t get over the fact that they were so beautiful. It was as if an angel had kissed both of his eyes as a child and blessed him with this beautiful color. Though, of course, it was due to his supernatural physiology. A guy could dream.

Spy took in a deep breath as he folded up the glasses and placed them beside his leg, lowering himself to the roof so that he wouldn’t be caught under that piercing gaze. He wanted so desperately for the huntsman to touch him even if it was for a brief second. Helping him up onto the camper had made him starved for more. He just didn’t know what to do without looking like a fool.

“I’ve been wondering,” He began, turning his head to find the Sniper already staring at him, eyes like daggers. “How old are you exactly?”

“125…or was it 126? No, no. It’s 125.” He replied, a smirk touching his lips.

“Do you sleep or eat?”

“I can. I just don’t do it often. Not much of a point anymore.”

“Do you burn in sunlight?”

“It only irritates my skin. Though, after a while I might start steaming a bit. Trust me, ya don’t wanna see that.” He chuckled to himself, a memory in his mind.

“What about the other typical weaknesses?”

“Myths, really. I actually like garlic and I’m not much of a religious guy. I’m also not dead. Not really, anyway.” He shrugged.

Spy slowly sat up at that, shifting closer as he raised his hand. Sniper watched him in interest, eyes never leaving his face. Emile hesitated slightly, the bushman’s gaze heavy on his skin. He lowered his hand to Sniper’s chest right above his heart and was surprised to feel its strong beats. It felt just like his own though slower and stronger.

“Told ya,” Spy felt the vibration at his fingertips.

“I have to ask. Why did you tell me your secret? You could ‘ave easily wiped my mind like you did Scout’s earlier today.”

Sniper took in a deep breath, eyes sparkling beneath the moon. “’Course you noticed that. I dunno. Guess I was tired of hiding it. And after noticing you always starin’ at me I started to think that you were figuring it out on your own.”

He would never have concluded that the man was a vampire though.

Spy’s hand lingered at Sniper’s chest, warm heat pulsing into his being. Perhaps he just liked touching. Or perhaps he liked touching the Sniper. He’d much rather _be_ touched but this would suffice for now.

Sniper’s eyes narrowed, searching Emile’s face for something he didn’t know. He must have found it, lips parting to say, “Do I still interest you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He had to at least admit that to himself and to Sniper.

“Ya know, I can hear heartbeats. Yours in particular is pretty interestin’.”

“…Why is that?” He asked suddenly hyperaware of its rhythm.

“It’s beating pretty fast right now. ‘s making me think that yer afraid of me.” He sat up then, Emile’s hand falling from his chest. “Or excited. Do I excite you, Spook?”

Sniper tilted his head to the side, eyes lidded as his hand drifted up to cradle the back of the Spy’s neck, thumb running up and down its curve. Emile shivered, body kicking into overdrive as the bushman’s fingers slid beneath his mask, teasing at the skin. A delightful heat spread from Sniper’s palm and Spy wanted more. He wanted so much more.

“You wish.” He said as evenly as possible.

“Then, do ya want me ta bite ya again? Been craving more?” Sniper asked, eyes practically the sun.

“’ave you?” He countered deliberately keeping his hands by his sides until the right moment.

He was suddenly pushed down, back pressing against the cool roof. Sniper was above him, snuggly situating himself between his legs. He leaned forward, pressing their chests together until there was nothing left between them. Sniper ducked his head down to the curve of Spy’s neck, lips kissing his previous bite.

“Yes.” He hissed, voice almost pained as he lifted up part of Spy’s mask.

Emile tingled pleasantly, mouth curling into a sinister smile. Sniper completely surrounded him, encased him in his heat. It was a wonderful feeling. He felt as if they were the only two on the planet, the camper its own island. The only thing that mattered was right here and right now, what was surrounding him and what was about to happen.

“Then do it.”

Sniper growled, fangs sinking into his flesh. Spy arched upward at the spark of pain, allowing the huntsman to wrap his arm around his back and pull him so close that Spy thought his ribs would break. Pleasure flooded in faster this time, trembling his bones and making him let out a breathy moan, eyes wide and unfocused.

He needed this. He _wanted_ this. He’d give Sniper everything he had just to feel this again. It was intoxicating, exhilarating, thrilling and addicting. Oh. It was beautiful. Spy already knew he was addicted, a whore for Sniper’s attention.  

Spy’s hands came up to run down Sniper’s back, methodically running over muscles and taut clothes. He tightened his grip on his shirt the moment a wave of pleasure stumbled into his system. It practically made Spy melt beneath the Aussie’s touch, a high pitched sigh leaving his lips.

Sniper started to tremble, arms stuttering around him. He was going to ask what was wrong but was interrupted by the huntsman releasing his neck with a satisfying pop, frantic breaths falling from his lips. In a daze, Spy dropped his back to the roof, hands falling away from the bushman. Sniper lowered his head to Emile’s chest, shoulders still trembling as he tried to catch his breath.

Spy brought his hands back up to Sniper’s arms, enjoyably sliding them up the muscles and settling at his broad shoulders.

“Now who’s excited?” He breathed out.

Sniper chuckled lightly, head bobbing with the action. “Sorry, it takes me a sec.”

“What does?”

The Australian let out another breath before looking up, eyes nearly as bright as a supernova. His mouth was covered in blood, the substance dripping onto Spy’s suit jacket. But somehow he looked like a god, the ultimate killer among mortals. He straightened up, face now at the same level as Spy’s as he licked his lips of the red liquid.

“To get back to normal,” He answered. “It’s easy to start eating. Hard to stop.”

“That makes sense I suppose.”

Sniper’s eyes flickered downward and he ducked his head to swipe at Spy’s wound with his tongue. He licked it twice before straightening up and examining it. He stared at it for a quiet moment and then, satisfied with whatever he did, rolled over onto his back and out of Spy’s space. He noticed the absence instantly and nearly followed him over so that they would keep touching. Regardless, Spy touched his neck and found his bite marks to have gone just as they had the first time. That must have been what Sniper was doing. More supernatural mumbo jumbo.

“That was delicious.” The Australian breathed out, eyes skyward.

The statement made Spy’s heart flutter. “You are welcome.”

A smile shouldn’t have touched his face the moment Sniper smirked. His fingers shouldn’t have trembled excitedly and his skin shouldn’t have been itching for Sniper’s. But he didn’t mind anymore. He was pleasantly addicted.           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =.=


	4. What's In A Name?

Spy ran a hand through his dark hair, staring at himself in the mirror. He didn’t like his nose. It was slightly crooked from it healing wrong and it just looked like an obstruction on his face. He also didn’t like his chin. It was too sharp for his liking. He could cut diamonds if he really tried. Perhaps that was why he really wore his mask. Using the excuse of espionage to hide his face didn’t hurt his pride as much as saying that he thought he was ugly.

Sniper, on the other hand, was perfect. His eyes were beyond beautiful and his hair was softer than a baby’s bottom. The right amount of stubble was at his jaw and his lips had the perfect curve to them. All of these features created a stunning visage of a charming man. It hid his desire for control and his easily predatory nature. It was perfect for him.

Spy huffed, blowing a strand of hair upward on his forehead. He wouldn’t have needed to relive these pubescent complaints had he never met the Sniper. He would have continued on living like an apex predator, grinning gleefully into the night as he cut down his foes. But alas, he had found the _real_ king and he wasn’t even human. Spy would call that cheating if he was petty.

Regardless, he wasn’t exactly upset that he had ever met the Sniper. The man thrilled him to no end and Spy had to admit that he was fascinating. Of course he’d never voice these aloud. His pride wouldn’t allow it but it was nice to think these quietly to himself. The Sniper was a pleasant surprise every time he appeared and his touch was even more intoxicating. It was a gorgeous balance between dominating and gentle and his touch was always hot and heavy. Spy would always welcome it wholeheartedly.

He wasn’t in love of course. Attracted, yes. In love, no. He didn’t exactly want to be in love at the moment. He didn’t know why. He just didn’t. He wouldn’t let himself.

He was addicted to Sniper, yes. He was addicted to the man himself and the bites he gave. But that was it really. He supposed. The Australian had implied that he was addicted to him as well but he didn’t exactly know where he stood in the Sniper’s book.

Spy sighed, throwing his mask over his head and inspecting himself one last time before leaving his room. He was met by the Demoman leaving his own room, staggering and bleary eyed. He gave Spy a sloppy wave before descending the stairs, clearly still drunk or at least hungover. The Frenchman rolled his eyes at him, following him down and secretly hoping the Scotsman would fall.

They entered the kitchen where Pyro was happily humming as they bounced in front of the stove. It looked as if they were making pancakes. Scout was hovering excitedly beside them, voicing the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed that particular breakfast food. Soldier, Medic and Heavy were seated at the table with the brash American wondering what accent Medic had. He still had yet to figure out that he was once a Nazi or at the very least German. He had instantly picked out the fact that Heavy was Russian but didn’t mind as much as one would think. It must have been the man’s unnatural size that put him off.

Demoman slumped onto one of the couches and, deciding against indulging the drunk, Spy sat himself beside Medic knowing that the Engineer would want to sit next to the American when he showed up. He was brought into the conversation with Medic nervously asking if Soldier knew that Emile was French.

Jane squared his eyes at him but nodded rigidly. “Affirmative! He is easy to get. You…you I don’t know yet.”

Spy nearly laughed but he realized he hadn’t gotten a cup of coffee before sitting down. He turned bitterly only to have a mug shoved into his face. He looked up to find Sniper smirking down at him, aviators reflecting his mask. He gave the Australian a roll of his eyes, taking the mug and sipping it tentatively. He was surprised to find that it was just how he liked it, three sugars and a bit of cream.

Sniper sat down beside him as Engineer circled around them to sit beside his love. He gave Soldier a quick kiss before saying that there would be another noon battle today, a groan coming from Scout in the kitchen. He wanted it to be Saturday, their ceasefire day, already but that was practically a week away. Pyro patted the boy on the head before handing him a plate of pancakes which instantly destroyed whatever bad mood he had been in.

Spy thanked Pyro as they deposited plates in front of his companions and Emile noticed that Sniper’s plate only had one pancake as opposed to three. Though, Heavy had the most at about ten and Scout had around five so there was a slight variety in amount. Spy slapped Thomas’ hand away before he could use all of the maple syrup and put his desired amount before handing the bottle to Sniper and not the Bostonian.

As they ate, Spy’s eyes fell over the Australian beside him and was surprised to see him actually eating. He had drenched his single pancake in syrup and Spy watched as he slowly and methodically cut into it and popped it into his mouth. A drop of syrup slid from his lips, dragging teasingly down his chin. It reminded Spy of Sniper post-feeding, trembling and trying to contain his animal instinct. With blood caked across his mouth he looked more like a monster than he did person. Spy should have been more concerned about that.

Though the image wasn’t entirely unpleasant. Spy would have been the one to make him that way, tear apart his composure with a simple drop of blood. It was beautiful knowing that he still had some form of control over the Sniper. It made him feel less weak.

He felt a pinch at his leg and he looked down to find the Australian retracting his hand.

“Staring,” He said low and singsong as he continued eating nonchalantly.

Spy would have gone red had he been a lesser man. He was caught again like a little schoolgirl. Ridiculous.

 

The day’s battle was fairing quite well in Blu’s favor though Red wasn’t that far behind. Spy had just happily backstabbed his enemy counterpart, both cloaks sizzling off. He soon backed away but was startled by a bullet whizzing by his head and passing through Red’s Demoman who had apparently been charging at him. He followed the bullet’s trajectory to find it had belonged to Sniper, his scope flickering in the light. Great. Now he owed the Aussie a favor.

Spy rolled his eyes again, a habit he seriously needed to kick. He activated his cloak in search of the other team’s Sniper. He had soon found him huddled behind a wall, reloading after firing at the Heavy and Medic in the distance. The man was shorter than his—Blu’s Sniper but was thinner overall. His counterpart was more muscular, shoulders much broader and generally better looking. Spy could attest to that. This man had a crop of blond hair as opposed to brown and he wore no sunglasses. This man couldn’t even compare to the predator hidden in his tower.  

Regardless, Spy easily stabbed him in the back, cloak falling from his shoulders. He reactivated it, following behind a suspicious blur that was moving towards his base. He knew it was his Red counterpart trying to mess with the Engineer, readying to sap his machines. Perhaps this Spy was indeed incompetent given the fact that Emile could easily follow him anywhere. He would never get a chance at killing Sniper and the man’s stealth was subpar. Though, he was able to sap buildings and ruin one’s day. It must have just been because he _appeared_ incompetent compared to Emile.

The Red Spy decloaked when they were in the sewers of Blu’s base. Emile waited patiently as he watched him disguise as the Soldier. Did he know about the two? Regardless, the man hulked into the intelligence room, acting as much as he could as their actual Soldier. Emile had to admit that he was doing a pretty good job though there was still something off about him.

Engineer greeted him warmly, waving his wrench around as he talked about how boring it was down here. The enemy Spy remained silent, nodding his head rigidly. He received a strange look from the southerner before he fell to the ground completely, knife sticking out of his back and disguise crumbling. Emile calmly retrieved his knife before wiping it of this pathetic soul’s blood.

“Dag nab it, damn it! That always fools me.” Engineer sighed, hitting his wrench against his dispenser. “Thanks, Spah.”

“De rien, laborer. You need to be more careful. This one knows of your relationship.” He said, kicking the disappearing body.

“Yeah. Thanks again.” He grinned as Emile disappeared down the hallway.

He took out his disguise kit just as the enemy Soldier appeared around the corner. Spy instantly shot him as a rocket was thrown at him, killing him quickly.  

He respawned after a few moments, a frown at his lips. He rolled his eyes as Medic materialized beside him, shrugging off that strange post-respawn feeling. The German gave him a swift nod before heading off to more than likely go find his Heavy. Spy lingered in the room, feet not in a hurry to get back out there.

He found himself drifting towards the hallway and sighed as he decided to indulge his desires. He went down corridors until he came upon a familiar set of stairs, ascending them slowly. His heart sped into motion like normal and he knew Sniper would be able to notice. He probably already did. He had previously shown how well he could hear. Spy picked the lock on the door, opening it in time to see Sniper fire, gun jerking backward but not carrying him with it like it did Emile. He closed the door and locked it, approaching the vampire slowly and cautiously.

He couldn’t help but be careful. At any moment the Australian could pin him against the wall in the blink of an eye or knock him downwards into a tight hold. He was unpredictable, a variable within Emile’s rather constant life. It was all the more frightening but also all the more thrilling. The Sniper could be so close to him in an instant if he chose to. Spy would have no say in it.

It made his lips curl upward.

Sniper topped off another enemy before lowering his weapon, sunglasses falling back into place. He turned towards the Frenchman expectantly, waiting for him to do something.

Spy tapped the side of his head and said, “Off.”

He saw the small quirk of the Aussie’s mouth but was pleased to see him remove his aviators, bright beautiful eyes a light of their own. They made a shiver go down his spine, tickling him teasingly before disappearing beneath Sniper’s fingertips. Spy still didn’t understand the biology of the man’s eyes. They were obviously bioluminescent. Medic would have been having a field day.

“So I can’t wear my glasses anymore?” Sniper asked, amusement coloring his voice.

“Not around me, no.” He said defiantly crossing his arms.

“Alright, whatever he wants,” He smirked, making a mock bow. “But I have to ask: why?”

Spy opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Should he tell him the truth? It was because Sniper’s eyes were stunning, a wonder of the world. It was as if the essence of the Earth was locked within those beautiful orbs, swirling around without a care in the world. His eyes never failed to make Emile tremble. They were just as powerful as the man himself. Any peek at them was a blessing. He was sure those eyes would be able to completely unravel him just by a simple stare.

Ok. So, no, he was not going to tell the truth.

“Now we are on a level playing field. You are not hiding behind these…” He failed to find the English word, moving his hand about instead.

Sniper laughed. It was actual full-blown laughter as opposed to his short amused chuckles. It nearly startled Spy.

“Ok.” He had said after composing himself. “What are you doing up here?”

He actually didn’t know why. To feed his addiction he supposed. But he couldn’t say that.

“What is your first name?” He said instead.

Sniper blinked at him for a long moment before saying, “I’ll tell you mine after you tell me yours.”

Spy huffed. “You could simply make me.”

“But I won’t. I was a gentleman before I was a vampire.”

Of course the Australian had moved the conversation in his favor. It was as if he had been waiting for the right moment to take the reins and lead him down a path of his own creation.

Spy sighed, tapping his finger on his forearm. There was no harm in telling him but where was the fun in that? His eyes flickered to the rifle forgotten on the windowsill and he grinned.

“’ow about this? You and I take turns with the rifle. First person to miss says their name first.”

Mundy smirked, scooting back so that there was the same amount of room as there was last time. Spy deposited himself onto the stool, Sniper’s heat threading around him again, a beautiful thrill touching his heart. He was disappointed that the man had settled his hands on his own legs instead of somewhere on Spy but he just had to make do with the pressure at his back.

He took hold of the rifle as he forced himself to focus. He knew he’d probably be the first to miss but his reward was something else entirely.

He found the Red Heavy just past the bridge, yelling about how he was _so_ strong. Spy made quick work of him before he could second guess himself. The man fell to the ground with a thud as Emile was rocketed backward. He pleasantly hit against the Australian’s chest and grinned triumphantly. Almost as soon as he let go of the weapon, Sniper’s hands had risen up to take the wheel. Spy had to scoot over so that the rifle’s kickback wouldn’t nail him in the shoulder. One of Sniper’s arms was wedged in Emile’s left armpit and the other was brushing against his ever so teasingly.

He swiftly dealt with a Scout and Spy had to roll his eyes at his deliberate attempt at showing off. Regardless, he took the weapon again, jumping slightly as Sniper’s hands fell around his waist this time, a distracting pressure that he wanted to consume him.

The enemy Demoman was pressed against a wall, ricocheting his bombs over another one that perfectly landed around his Blu teammates. Spy let out a deep breath and fired, getting pushed backward again but was swiftly stopped by the presence behind him. He was happy to find the demolitions expert crumpled in a heap. Sniper took the reins again, this time running his hand up Emile’s side before aiming for someone. The motion had made him shiver, nearly making him dizzy. Now he knew that the conniving Australian was doing this on purpose.

Sniper instantly killed a Medic before lowering his hands again, this time resting at Spy’s thighs. Oh, this game was going to murder him. The Frenchman could already tell that the touches were affecting him, sweat forming at his brow and heart at a pace that could power an engine. He took hold of the rifle, stiffening as Sniper slid his hands upward, leaving fire in his wake. Spy let out a deep breath as he found the Heavy in his scope again. The crosshair was trembling and he couldn’t keep it from moving as Sniper’s hands went higher and higher. He fired, getting kicked backward. He looked back through the scope to happily find the large man on the ground.

He smirked proudly to himself, hands falling onto the Australian’s legs. Payback time.

He waited and waited as Sniper found someone in his scope. Spy couldn’t even tell who, too busying tightening his grip on the Aussie’s pants. He could see the man’s finger twitch at the trigger and Spy waited until the right moment to strike. Just as Sniper moved to fire, Spy lifted himself upward, grinding his ass back down and onto the man’s crotch. He twitched in surprise, firing suddenly as the rifle jerked upward.

Spy smirked triumphantly, victory dance playing in his mind. His own arousal was growing and he knew he needed to leave the room before things went down a different path. However, he stayed where he was, listening to the satisfying way the Sniper let out a breath of air. It took all of his willpower not to move his ass again, heart thundering in his chest.

“It appears that you ‘ave lost.” He said as calmly as possible, sweat trickling down his neck. “What is your name, mon ami?”

Sniper let out a throaty laugh, voice thick with what Spy was feeling.         

The Australian leaned down, breath ghosting over the fabric around his ear. His hands had returned to Spy’s thighs drawing upward as he whispered, “Jack.”

His eyes fluttered at the name, legs thrumming as if a volcano had erupted on his skin. He swallowed thickly, Jack’s hands running up his stomach and over his chest. “Je m’appelle Emile.”

“G’day, Emile.” Sniper murmured as his teeth scraped across the fabric at his ear.

He was already losing himself, the cliff’s edge crumbling beneath him. If this went any further he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. He shouldn’t need to be. It was all Jack’s fault.

However, as Sniper’s hands drifted back downward, he couldn’t help but think that this was partly his fault too.

Spy could feel himself start to lift up his mask, trembling fingers digging beneath the material. Jack had ducked down, lips finding that spot at his neck that he loved so dearly. He had lifted the mask just above his chin when an explosion erupted, rocking the tower and making the walls go crazy. Engineer’s incoherent yelling could be heard after the explosion had rang through, something about damnable spies and demomen.

Emile had jumped the moment it happened, hands vigorously throwing his mask back down. Sniper’s touch had disappeared and Spy stood up hurriedly, lifting his arm to check his watch. His arm was trembling and he forced it to remain still with his other one. It sounded as if Engineer was still alive so that meant that he’d need to have his buildings back up in about five minutes. Red’s Spy might still be lurking around.

Emile stepped to the side and glanced down at his companion. Sniper was staring hard at the spot on the stool he had just been in, brows furrowed tightly. His fists were clenched and Spy noticed him lick his teeth from within his lips, nostrils flaring with the motion.

It was probably best to leave.

“Au revoir, Jack.” He said, voice wavering between normalcy and conflict.

“Emile,” Oh his name sounded so tantalizing at the Aussie’s tongue. It nearly made him turn away from the door.

However, he swung it open and stepped through, closing it securely. He remained there at the top of the stairs, chest rising and falling as he replayed what had just happened in his mind. He threw a hand to his face, letting out a puff of air as he willed his steaming body to calm down. Perhaps this was becoming more than an addiction.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my favorite chapters :3


	5. Campers and Addiction

It was finally Saturday, their ceasefire day. Scout must have been jumping for joy. Though, given the fact that he wasn’t in the kitchen when Spy came in must have meant he was still asleep. Only the Engineer, Soldier, Heavy, Medic and Pyro were in there with him which was typical. They were the early risers. Demoman was probably passed out in his bed and Sniper was probably off doing something as a loner. That was their typical Saturday morning.

Heavy grinned as Pyro set them plates of waffles, a hand at Medic’s arm. Spy’s hand unconsciously drifted under the table, fingers lightly touching his knee before slowly gliding up his thigh. His eyes fluttered as he imagined them as Sniper’s, hot and heavy, dominating and oh so tantalizing. It made his heart stutter, knees starting to weaken. He remembered Jack running his hands up Emile’s chest, lips at his ear, a shiver at his spine.

However, he immediately blinked out of his stupor the moment Soldier’s loud voice touched the air. Spy shook his head of the images and swiftly deposited his hand on the table where he could keep a close eye on it.

He had been daydreaming more frequently after his little bet with Sniper. Whenever someone would do something that remotely reminded him of the Australian, his mind would wander and think back to that wonderful day in his tower. It had nearly gotten out of hand and Spy had been partly or…mostly responsible for it. It made him wonder if he had subconsciously pushed the situation in that direction, forcing a less voiced Freudian slip. Though, he also wondered how far he would have let things go before saying stop or if he would even _say_ stop.

Did he desire a one night stand with Sniper? No, that “courtship” would have gone as far as pushing the Australian to the ground and doing the do. This…back and forth between them was something else entirely. It was playful, sensual and so much more different to any relationship Spy had ever had before. No one has ever had the ability to make Emile feel so…alive. Sniper was…Sniper. He was his own category of person, physiologically and figuratively.

He had the ability to throw Emile’s entire world upside down and he loved it. However, he didn’t know whether this was simply a physical attraction or something so much more. He was sure he was still standing on the cliff’s edge but he didn’t know how long that would last.

Spy sighed as he put his coffee down. Heavy was detailing something about bears but he paid no mind to it as he stood up. He bid the group adieu before depositing his things into the sink and leaving the room. He decided to go outside to have a smoke and slowly moved towards the back door.

He didn’t like being this confused. He had spent his life knowing exactly what to do and after signing with Blu that knowledge had thrown itself out the window. Spy knew that even if Sniper hadn’t of been a vampire he’d still have this effect on him.

Just as Spy opened the back door, music touched his ear. He narrowed his eyes to find Sniper’s camper just a few yards into the Badlands, doors wide open and the man himself doing pushups. Spy bit his lip, his addiction itching for the Australian. Was it really even an addiction? His hands were already beginning to tremble, his body remembering the man’s touch. Perhaps it was.

Spy took out a cigarette, lit it, and began walking towards the man. He had to bypass Engineer’s truck on the way and it gave him a good distraction that wasn’t Sniper. Engineer usually took it into town to get beer or tools. Sometimes Soldier would tag along or be driving it himself. Spy remembered one time he saw both Pyro and Scout bouncing in the bed of it as they sped off. Spy didn’t have a vehicle to use but he didn’t mind. He rarely left 2fort.

He took in a deep breath as he neared the camper, music becoming louder and louder. His eyes found Sniper again and his heart nearly stopped for an entire minute. The man was shirtless, clad only in his brown slacks and his shoes. Spy could see the sweat glistening down his back, muscles protruding as he went down for another pushup. His arms were bulging, working to get him back up. This man would be the death of Emile.

The music wasn’t particularly interesting and he could tell that Sniper wasn’t really listening. Though, Emile usually had something random playing as he did something else. He never paid much mind to it though.

So, as he got closer, he forced his mind to ignore the man grunting on the ground and opened the driver’s side door. He ticked the radio off and closed the door, eyes finally resting on Sniper. His glasses were on of course and Spy marveled at the muscles on the man’s back, contracting and expanding as he exercised.

Spy reached a hand out but stopped himself, pulling his glove off instead and continuing the action. He had never touched the man’s skin without fabric between them. When his fingers connected with Sniper’s back, Emile had to suppress a grin as he ran it down his spine. His skin was soft yet hard at the same time, smooth and lusciously appealing. Spy pressed his palm down, squatting so that Sniper’s up and down motions didn’t impede his reach.

From here he could hear the Australian’s labored breaths and his occasional grunts. Spy’s heart fluttered slightly at the sounds and he rolled his eyes at himself, knowing he was going to imagine another situation where those sounds would be produced. Though, he’d do that some other time when he wasn’t in the Sniper’s company.

Spy stood back up, tilting his head at the Australian before dusting himself off and seating himself on the Sniper’s back. The man beneath him grunted roughly but didn’t stop his movements and Spy enjoyed the up and downward motions he was subjected to for his choice in seating. He languidly dragged his hand over Sniper’s back and hummed in appreciation of what he was feeling.

“Bonjour,” He said finally, crossing his legs with the word.

“Enjoying…the view?” Sniper huffed out though there was a lightness to it.

“Partially,” He smirked, wondering whether he should reveal his other hand as well which would mean he’d need to throw away his cigarette. “I did not know vampires could get tired.”

“I’ve been doing this for a while, mate.” The Aussie laughed, pushing downward again.

“Do you even need to work out?”

“Muscles don’t show up just cuz you ask.”

“C’est vrai.” Spy sighed. He dragged his hand over Sniper’s shoulder blades and they twitched in response. He finally noticed the slight mist sizzling from his muscles, a faint sheen of steam mingling with the smoke from Spy’s cigarette. “You are melting.”   

The Australian grunted in response, straightening back up and bouncing slightly to tell Emile to get off. He did and watched the man move in intense interest. Sniper stood up, sweat falling from his brow and down the side of his face. His chest was deliciously shimmering, a bead of sweat drifting down his abs until it was stopped by the hem of his pants, a sprinkle of hair disappearing beneath his belt. The steam wrapped around him like a lively blanket, rippling from the wind.  

Spy knew that he was blatantly staring. He found that he didn’t particularly mind and apparently neither did Sniper. The Australian sat down on the step of his camper in the shade, facing him. He reached back to grab a water bottle and started downing it instantly. Spy bit his lip as he watched the man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down, chest rising and falling in a mesmerizing motion.

This wasn’t just an addiction. Spy knew that now. He just didn’t know _what_ this was.

He glanced down at Sniper’s lap, wondering whether he should sit himself right on down. It looked as if it were inviting him to and he knew Sniper wouldn’t mind or at least wouldn’t push him off. So, he took in a deep breath and, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders, sat himself down, knees either side of him. Spy adjusted himself as Sniper paused in his drinking, quirking a brow before continuing.

The sun was already beating against Emile’s mask so he disposed of his cigarette and unbuttoned his blazer, placing it in a pile over Sniper’s shoulder. He removed his other glove and threw it into the spot as well, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and loosening his tie. He knew this wouldn’t exactly help the heat given his position but it was worth a try. At least the Australian had stopped steaming, the process eclipsed by the shade of the camper.  

Spy placed his hands back on Sniper’s shoulders, squeezing them gently as he made sure he wasn’t rubbing up against anything that would make him all hot and bothered. Though, their chests were nearly touching and any amount of personal space was occupied by either one of them. A different kind of heat littered into the air and Spy wholly welcomed this one. It was mixed with the thick musk of sweat and sandalwood, two scents he didn’t mind swarming his nostrils.

Sniper finally drained the bottle, chucking it carelessly into the depths of his camper. His hands had yet to find their way to Spy’s body but he didn’t appear to mind the Frenchman’s new position. Emile lifted his hands up to remove the man’s glasses and nearly had the breath knocked out of him the moment his bright, gorgeous eyes were revealed. Spy would never get tired of them.

“Yer gonna have to show me yer face one day.” Sniper said, voice clear and so very close.

“One day,” He replied, hating the slight touch of fear in his mind. “Though, I do need a little support right now. What if I fall off and ‘it my ‘ead? That would be your fault, bushman.”

“Yer the one who sat yerself down in the the first place.”

“And you are the one who ‘as not pushed me off yet.” He countered, hoping that this would convince the man to touch him.

Instead, Sniper remained silent, green eyes roaming his face.

After a long quiet moment, Spy was beginning to think that the man _was_ going to push him off. However, that thought quickly sunk to the bottom of the ocean the moment Sniper snaked his arms around him, hands settling heavily at his back. Spy could feel the man’s sweat sink into his shirt but it was worth it to have those strong muscles circle around him. Their chests had pressed together and Spy could faintly feel Sniper’s heartbeat against him.

The Aussie had ducked his head down, teeth pulling up the bottom of Spy’s mask and hand tugging down his collar. The Frenchman could feel his heated lips against his skin, a shiver running down his spine.

Though, suddenly, Sniper pulled away, brows furrowing. “Was there a full moon last night?”

Spy blinked at him in confusion. That was random. He thought back to the night before and remembered himself closing his curtains under an almost complete moon. “No. But it was close. It was not ‘alf but more than that.”

“Gibbous,” Sniper hissed out slowly.

“Oui. Gibbous,”

The Australian didn’t say anything else, instead training his eyes on Spy’s collarbone. He was frowning and Emile had to wonder why. What did the moon have to do with anything? Sniper couldn’t have also been a werewolf right? Did they even exist? If vampires were around, did that also mean zombies and ghosts and all those other creatures were real as well? Could the moon affect them somehow? Spy was sure he had been around Sniper at some point during a full moon and he had seemed completely normal. However, by the way the huntsman reacted, something must have been different about this coming moon.

Spy brought one of his hands up, running his fingers down Sniper’s jaw before lifting his chin up. The marksman’s eyes fell away from his chest and met his, a pleasant buzzing touching his heart.

“What is the matter?” Spy asked, concern coloring his voice.

Sniper’s hands had a slight tremor as he said, “Nothin’”

He scoffed. “You are a terrible liar.”

The marksman’s lips twitched upward. “I’ll tell ya later.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,”

“D’accord,” Spy said, adjusting himself as he tilted his head to the side. “It has been a week, no?”

“It has,” Sniper replied slowly, swallowing thickly.

The Frenchman waited for him to do something but the taller man had remained immobile, hands stilled against his back. Sniper’s eyes had fallen to the curve of his neck but he was frowning again, brows drawn together into a line. Spy wished he’d tell him what was wrong but he could see that this was something he did not want to talk about anytime soon.

So, instead, Spy leaned forward, rising slightly as he brought his neck closer, tilting his head so that the marksman would have easy access. Sniper still had yet to move but his arms were tightening around him, obviously conflicted about something that was foreign to Spy.

“Why the hesitation?” He asked, breath stuttering as he placed his hand on the back of the man’s neck, urging him closer. “Am I no longer appetizing?” He heard Sniper’s lips smack together and he was glad to find the answer to be ‘no’. “I am laid out for you on a silver platter.” He said as the man finally moved, teeth scraping across that loveable curve of his neck. “Take me, Jack.”

The huntsman sunk his teeth into his skin, eliciting a low moan from Spy’s lips. Euphoria flooded in as Sniper brought him closer, hands curving around his ass. Spy’s eyes fluttered as pure ecstasy overwhelmed every feeling in his body.

This was no addiction. He knew what this was now. He knew it the moment he showed concern as they spoke about the moon, knew it when he had run his hand down Sniper’s sweaty back, knew it the moment he took the man’s glasses off. But he didn’t want to say it. He was too afraid. Saying it to himself would make it real, would make it impossible to take back. He was terrified of saying it, of finally accepting what Sniper had taken from him. It would be the loss of all his control around the man. He was afraid of thinking about this any further, afraid of finally telling himself what this was. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

But, as Sniper’s hands ran up his back slowly and sensually, Spy couldn’t help but indulge himself a little. He couldn’t help himself as he pulled them as close as he could, chests pressed together almost painfully. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning loudly or from squeezing his eyes closed as he imagined them going further.

The cliff was gone from him now. He must have fallen a long time ago.

As dizziness climbed its way into Spy’s vision, he felt Sniper tighten his grip on his shirt. He pulled the Frenchman away as his head lolled back, staggered gasps falling from his lips. His shoulders were shaking, chest rising and falling like a torrential wave. In a daze, Spy could see a bead of blood rolling down his chin, curving at his neck and weaving between his pectorals.

Emile spread his fingers over the drop, stopping it in its tracks. He could feel Sniper’s heartbeat, rapid and uncontrollable. He dragged his hand upward, lingering at the man’s collarbone before moving over his neck and cradling the back of his head. Emile pushed gently and Sniper dropped his head back into place, eyes blown wide and lips parted to allow his heavy breaths passage. His cheeks were almost the same color as the blood at his mouth, a touch of sweat at his brow. He looked as if he had just had the most mind-blowing orgasm in existence.

Spy’s lips quirked up at that. He did this.

Sniper lowered his head back to the bite mark, the side of his sweaty forehead touching Emile’s cheek. The Australian paused, remaining there for an indefinite amount of time. He took in a deep breath before licking the wound, pulling away a little too quickly and settling Emile’s collar back into place.

Spy saw him swallow thickly and felt his hands drift away from his back. He wanted them back but chose to stop indulging…the emotion that shall not be name. He clamped down his mind, reminding himself that he was an impeccable, debonair Frenchman. The fantasies were over. At least for now.

“Enjoyed yourself?” He asked, smirking. He needed to go back to being the Spy.

Sniper chuckled, dragging his teeth over his bloodstained bottom lip. “Did you?”

“You love answering a question with a question.” He sighed.

“And you love avoiding them.”

Spy kept himself from dragging his hand over Sniper’s chest as he stood up. He leaned over him to retrieve his blazer and gloves, flapping them to dispense of any dirt they may have accumulated. As normally as he could, he pulled them on, smoothing out any wrinkles and moving to stand in front of the Aussie.

“How do I look?”

“Prim and proper and just like a Frenchie,” Sniper replied as he leaned back on his hands.

“Yes and you look like a rugged outdoorsman who has no idea what hygiene means.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.” He countered, grinning.

Spy rolled his eyes at him, silently cursing the man for being right.

“Now, get outta here. Scout had said he wanted to tell stories around a campfire with Pyro and Demoman later today. Unless ya wanna join us?”

“Ack, no. Any activity with the Bostonian is one I avoid.”

Sniper laughed, shrugging as he said, “Suit yourself.”

With every step Spy took, Jack’s smile faded. He watched the Frenchman disappear into the building and he let out a deep breath, tongue swiping over Emile’s blood at his lips. He looked up at the sky, eyes searching for a moon he knew would be out in a few hours.

“Too good. Too good. Gonna make me go crazy.” He mumbled as he licked his lips again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steamy (~￣▽￣)~


	6. A Howl Beneath The Moon

Sniper still had yet to tell Spy why he had been so concerned about the moon last week. It was frustrating. Every time he had asked him about it the man would avoid answering as if he held nuclear launch codes. Spy would go up to his tower and ask during battle and the Aussie would say he was busy. He’d ask him at his camper and get the same silly response. It was ridiculous. As petty as it sounded, Sniper had promised to tell him why he was so bothered and the man still had yet to do it.

Lunch came and went without anything notable happening other than the fact that the marksman wasn’t there. It was Demoman’s turn to cook for the week and Spy couldn’t blame Sniper for skipping it altogether. However, he had skipped dinner the night before and breakfast today which made sense because of the man’s lack of an appetite but none of the others had seen him at all. There was to be another battle today and Spy knew the Aussie wouldn’t be missing it given the fact that it would be a violation of his contract.

So, as Spy waited for the Announcer to countdown, he devised a plan to see him. His first five minutes of the match would be taken up by the Engineer and he had to be on his guard on his way back to the base. Other than that, he would spend the entire match in the Sniper’s tower if that meant having his questions answered.

 

After disposing of the other team’s predictable infiltrator, Spy made a beeline back to the base, avoiding any and every enemy he could. He hurried back inside just as both the Heavy and Medic respawned. The German had given him a curious look before following his Russian who was strangely charging relentlessly back into battle. Emile knew that Alric was catching on to his relationship with the Sniper if he even had one. The Engineer hadn’t exactly put the pieces together yet but they were going to slide together eventually.

Spy took the steps two at a time as he moved, dodging corners left and right. Sniper probably already knew that he was approaching and he could probably make him leave the instant he came into the room but he’d take his chances. He came upon the final set of stairs and forced himself to calm down, to rein in those goddamn emotions that he would never voice aloud.

He picked the lock and entered the room. Surprised, he found the Sniper pacing back and forth in front of the window, one hand to his lips and the other wrapped around his chest. He was mumbling to himself, incoherent strings of thought that Spy couldn’t pick up.

The moment he closed the door, Sniper’s head shot up. He turned towards the noise and instantly started shaking his head.

“Oh, no you do not. Get out of here, Spook.” He said as he waved his hands.

“No.” He replied with a shrug, stepping further into the room.

With each step he took, Sniper took two back. “Get out, Emile. I ain’t gonna say it again.”

“You could make me leave if you really wanted to. But you ‘ad said that you were a gentleman before you were a vampire.”

Jack bit his lip before turning away, pacing from one wall to the other before sitting on his stool. Though, he only remained there for about three seconds before he shot up again to continue that dance with the wall. Spy could see that his fingers were twitching, overall movements more fidgety and stuttered. Something was definitely wrong. There was no trace of the smooth, confident predator in the man.

“Tell me what is wrong and I will leave.”

Sniper shook his head as he muttered, “Too good. Too good. Yer distracting me.”

“Jack,” Spy said as he moved closer. The Aussie noticed his proximity and stepped away accordingly, hands wrapping around his waist like a boa constrictor. “Tell me what is wrong.”

Sniper’s back hit the wall and he took in several deep breaths before saying, “It’s gonna be a Blood Moon tonight. It’s gonna be a Blood Moon for the whole week.”

“Blood Moon?”

“Harvest Moon, whatever you wanna call it. It’s a red moon that fucks with people like me.” The Aussie took his hat off and with shaking fingers ran them through his hair. “It makes us not ourselves. Makes us darker. It starts off like this. Makes you go crazy before it turns you into something ya ain’t. That’s why you need to get out of here.”

“Me?” He asked as he stopped in the middle of the room.

“I ain’t gonna be me. Don’t know what I’m gonna do around you. Heavy’s gonna have his own issues. Soldier’s gonna get even more messed up. I can deal with the others. Not you. Not you. Smell too good. Taste too good.” Sniper replied frantically, shaking his head.

Spy’s heart would have fluttered had that been said in a different scenario. He balled his hands into fists, debating whether he should heed the man’s words or not. “You need to feed.”

“I’ll kill you. I’m gonna kill you if I do that. Stay away from me for the next week.” He gasped out, lowering himself to the ground.

“I cannot just—perhaps I can help you.” He said steadily, fingers beginning to tremble.

“Please go away.”

“I cannot!” He shouted because it was the truth. He knew deep down inside he would be unable to leave, unable to turn his back and allow the Sniper to go through Hell and back by himself. That goddamn emotion wouldn’t let him. He wouldn’t let him suffer alone. He couldn’t.

Sniper growled angrily, hand rising up to throw his sunglasses to the ground. He shot upward, grabbing Emile by the shoulders and staring him right in the eye. Jack’s beautiful green eyes looked sickly, darker. They didn’t hold their sweet Earthy tone, a deep red circle forming around each iris. They were slowly changing, morphing into the visage of a bloody moon.

“Stay away from me for the duration of the Blood Moon.” Sniper said, eyes flashing briefly.

Spy let out a deep breath as the Aussie released him. He could feel the command touch his mind like the sweet caress of a lover, rewiring his brain to heed those words. His legs were stepping him backwards before he could register that he was moving. He could do nothing as they carried him to the door, eyes locked with Sniper’s.

“You should not have done that.” He whispered as his hands fumbled for the doorknob.

The huntsman turned his back to him, arms circling around himself.

Emile stumbled out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him. His legs carried him further and further away, down stairs and around corners. And away from Jack.

 

Spy tapped his finger on the table as Demoman prepared dinner. Though, there were three vacant seats at the table. Both the Heavy and Medic were nowhere to be found. It had made Spy think back to Sniper’s words earlier in the day. He had said that the Russian would be having his own problems which meant that he must have been a vampire as well. Or, at least, a supernatural being. Perhaps a werewolf. That meant that Alric was probably helping him get through this damnable moon. At least the German was allowed to do that.

Sniper had also said something about the Soldier, something about his mentality. However, as Emile glanced at him from across the table, he looked completely fine. Though, there was a touch of a frown at his lips and it looked as if his hand was on Engineer’s thigh. Regardless, Emile shook his head in frustration and sighed.   

He could still feel the strings of his compulsion tugging at the back of his mind. That had been the most powerless and useless he had ever felt. He could do nothing as he was carried away and he would have yelled out the Sniper’s name had he not been in shock. He hadn’t of thought that the man would actually make him leave. He had thought that Sniper would never use his ability on him again. He had obviously been wrong.

Spy had felt his entire heart stop the moment he had heard those words. The organ was practically ripped in half as he was carried away, one half staying with Sniper and the other remaining with himself. He had wanted to help. Damn the consequences. He didn’t care how dangerous it would be. As long as he was by Jack’s side nothing would matter.

He sighed, hand clenching into a fist. Even now, he still didn’t want to admit it to himself. He didn’t want to voice the emotion that shall not be named. It would make it too real, too raw, and too upsetting. At this rate, it would make him cry.

He just didn’t know what to do. Sniper had forced him to leave and that force would keep him away for the next week as the man did God knows what. Did Sniper lock himself away in his tower? Was he driving around trying to keep himself occupied? Or was he off on a killing spree, cutting down everyone who got in his way? How far away from himself was the Australian? Was he a completely different person? Was he so changed that he would be unrecognizable?

Sniper had said that having Spy around would be distracting and he had seen that he was already being a nuisance the moment he stepped into the room. Perhaps he really couldn’t do anything.

He was worthless.

Spy silently stood up, stepping out of the room as emotionlessly as he could. He moved out of sight and bit into his hand, hard. He let out a yell as loud as he could, the sound muffled by his gloves. He screamed again, leaning back against the wall as he hit his thigh with his fist. He hit it again and again, yell after yell accompanying the motion. He remained like that for quite some time, his entire body sliding to the ground.

Never in his life had he been this inadequate. Control was always his and his alone. Now it was nothing more than a fairytale told to children before bed.

He looked up, dropping his hand to the ground. His throat was raw, glove soaked with saliva. From this angle, he could see through one of the high windows on the wall across from him. Staring right at him was a demon, a crimson ball of fire looming over its victims. The Blood Moon really was what it was named, a large bright sphere painted red against the night sky. That was what was destroying Sniper, messing with every supernatural being on Earth.

Spy stood up, rage building within him. He had never had the desire to break the moon apart. But right now he’d fashion a rocket up and blow it to Kingdom Come.

Though, suddenly, he had the urge to go left, legs stumbling as he was pushed in that direction. He looked behind himself but couldn’t find Sniper anywhere. He was moving, staggering away from the vampire, mind struggling to obey the command. He tried as best as he could to refuse but he could feel himself divided mentally, one half wanting to run and the other to turn around.

He kept going, hallway after hallway flitting by him. It was as if the Sniper was following him, forcing his body to keep on running. Was that it? Was the vampire really following after him? But he, himself, was the one who created this compulsion in the first place. Was he protecting Spy from himself?

The moment he thought of that, he had very little time to catch himself as he stumbled to the ground, orders fading back to a slight whisper. Sniper must have stopped following him.

Spy looked up to find that he had gone all the way to the other side of the base, landing in front of the infirmary which also held Medic’s office. He stood up, brushing dust off of his knees as he rolled his shoulders. That sudden battle with his compulsion had made his muscles stiff. He rubbed his thighs as he eyed the letters on the infirmary doors. Given the fact that he was already here, he decided to see if what Sniper had said was true.

Just as he had touched one of the doorknobs, the loud sound of glass breaking had resounded from behind the wood. Spy hurriedly pushed the doors open and found all of the lights to be off save for one. Beds had been pushed around, books and papers were strewn about, littering the ground. The entire room looked as if an earthquake had torn it apart. A large jagged hole was left in the back window, glass thrown just as haphazardly as everything else.

Medic popped up from behind a desk, lab coat askew and hair terribly unkempt. He was breathing as heavily as the Sniper after he feed. His eyes were blown wide, surveying the room with a panic Spy could see. The moment his gaze had fallen on the Frenchman he blinked in surprise and ran his fingers through his hair.

“A-Ah! Hello, Spy. Vhat can I do for you?” He asked, stare flickering between him and the broken window.

Emile scanned the room blankly, hands sliding into his pockets. “You are having issues tonight as well, no?”

Medic’s brows furrowed in confusion, suspicion coloring his gaze. “Vhat do you—”

“You are not the only one that deals with the supernatural.” He said simply.

The German jumped up in excitement. “Really? Who else is there?”

“The Sniper is a vampire.” He knew there was no need to keep this from the man given the fact that they were both in the same situation.

“Ah! That explains some things. Mikhail had told me of their existence. To zink zat we have one under the same roof as a werewolf…”

“A werewolf?”

“Ja,” Medic said, eyes flickering back to the open window. “The Blood Moon is very difficult for zem.”

For some reason, the Heavy being a werewolf didn’t bother him. It must have been the fact that he had gotten used to Sniper being a vampire. Also, the Heavy’s status as supernatural made sense. He was so much larger than everyone else and his strength was incredible. Spy had paid no mind whenever the Russian and German were absent from the dinner table but now that he thought about it, they were usually gone once each month, near the end. The occasional glares Heavy gave the Sniper made sense now, reviving that age old conflict between vampires and werewolves.

He wondered how long the Medic had to deal with this. He wondered how the man had handled it the first time he had seen the man transform and if he had acted in the same way as Spy.

After feeling the subtle tug of his compulsion, he asked, “Do you need some assistance?”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to help. You have your own problems by the sound of it.” He said, moving towards the window.

“My issue will not resolve itself tonight.” He replied rigidly, legs carrying him forward a few steps.

“Then as payment for your help, I will help you with your issue. Come.”

Spy followed the man to the window and they tentatively opened it, shards of glass falling from the gaping hole. Medic climbed out first and Spy followed after. The Blood Moon was high in the sky, the stars appearing to be eclipsed by its intense light. Large paw prints could be seen in the dirt leading away from the base. They were in the direction of a rock formation not too far off.

Medic instantly started moving towards them, determination straightening his posture. Spy moved to his side, eyes narrowing as they stepped past Sniper’s camper. Had the marksman been in there, he would have been stumbling as far away as he could. That must have meant he was still in the base.

“What do you ‘ope to accomplish once we find the ‘eavy?” He asked, distracting himself from that tugging sensation.

“I’ve been able to calm him down before and get him to return to his human state but I do not know about tonight. Zis moon happens only once a year.” He replied, eyes hard-set on the footprints.

“You ‘ave never deal with this moon before?”

Medic shook his head. “Ve have been in 2fort for vat? Nine months? Zis is the first time it has occurred since ve been here.”

“You have known of his condition since you met?”

“Ja, ve have been together for quite some time now. He first told me a few days after ve met. I had thought he vas crazy and dismissed ze notion like any normal person vould have. I _saw_ it actually happen a few veeks later. It terrified me but I knew zat vas still mein Heavy. I’ve been working on a serum to help calm him down but it is still…unstable.” He said, biting his lip. “But vat about you? Vhy can your issue not be fixed tonight?”

“Do you know of a vampire’s ability to control the mind?” He asked hesitantly. It felt strange opening up to Medic.

“Ja, Mikhail had called it Compulsion.”

“The Sniper has forced me to stay away for the duration of the Blood Moon. I cannot go near him.”

Medic hummed thoughtfully. “I do believe Misha knows of a vay to get past it. It sounds as if ze Sniper had done it to protect you.”   

He snorted at that. “If that is ‘ow you see it.”

“Are you and ze Sniper together?”

Spy looked away, eyes finding some pebble on the ground. “Non,”

“Do you vant to be?” His voice was gentle, a touch of understanding littering into the mix.

He opened his mouth but found no words. He didn’t want to admit it yet. So, instead, he said, “I do not know what _he_ wants.”

A loud howl echoed into the air and two sets of eyes went skyward as they scanned the large rock formation for a wolf. An enormous animal appeared from the shadows, yellow eyes bright against its dark backdrop. The animal looked more like a bear than it did a wolf. Dark fur coated every inch of its body, fluttering slightly from the faint breeze. Its legs were thick, back arched as it surveyed the two. It moved slowly and unhurriedly like a true predator, pearly whites bared as its nostrils flared.

“Meine liebe,” Medic breathed, moving forward without hesitation. The animal growled loudly, halting the man in his tracks. “It is me, remember? Your little Doktor. It is alright, meine liebe. Ze moon cannot control you. Do not let it.” The animal growled louder but didn’t move nor did it stop the German from stepping closer. “Zat is it. You are mein Misha. You vould not hurt me. Ja?” The animal growled again but it was more pained and forced. “Come back to me.”

Suddenly, the behemoth pounced on the Medic, throwing him to the ground. Emile readied his knife, slowly moving closer. Alric let out a frightened yell before hesitantly raising his hands. “It is ok, meine liebe.” He rested them on the sides of the monster’s face. “I am here.”

A high pitched whine fell from the animal, pants littering into the air. It bared its teeth, a growl ready at its tongue. At this distance it would be deafening. Its paw dug into the side of Alric’s arm, blood spreading over the fabric of his sleeve but he did not yell out in pain, eyes the image of determination.  

“Remember vat you vould say to me? If the moon vere to be your veakness, then I vas your strength. You had called me ze sun, your sun. You see ze stars in my eyes. You had called me your angel. So let me be zat.” Medic whispered, hands running down the wolf’s cheeks.

The fur around the animal stuttered into motion, flecks of it being carried away by the breeze. More of it fell away, the wind picking up speed to throw it off. Soon, the rest of it fell away with a resounding growl to reveal the Heavy, arms holding his weight above the Medic. His eyes were blown wide, labored breaths falling from his lips.

However, a smile soon formed and with a loud laugh he yelled, “Doktor!”

The man pulled his love into a hug, kissing his face repeatedly as the Medic giggled like a little child.

Spy looked away despondently, eyes finding their way back to the base.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we have ourselves another supernatural couple:3
> 
> But I wonder if we'll have a third...


	7. A Compulsion Worth Following

Spy had bypassed the kitchen, forgoing his meal in favor of visiting the Heavy and Medic. He had been elated to discover that the Russian knew how to break a Compulsion. However, after last night’s adventure, the duo had told him to return in the morning after the giant had rested. The Heavy being a werewolf was the least of his worries.

If he was able to remove his command then he would be able to see Sniper again. He’d be able to make sure he was ok, make sure nothing was wrong and help him. He knew that the marksman needed to feed and given the fact that Spy’s body had been keeping him from Sniper’s tower, the Australian hasn’t been outside yet to catch any animals.

Though, the man had also said that if he fed on Spy, he’d more than likely kill him. Hopefully respawn would take care of that during the day’s battle when he chose to go to him. If it didn’t, well…Spy wouldn’t exactly care given the fact that he’d be dead.

When he had first signed on with Blu, Emile had vowed to not get close to any of his teammates, choosing to have no emotional ties to any of them. It would have made it easier if he were somehow tasked to kill them. However, he had ended up breaking that vow at some point in his career as Blu’s spy. Perhaps it had started the moment he decided to eat with the others. Or perhaps it had begun when he had once indulged Dell as the Texan detailed a story about how he had gotten bitten by five snakes at the same time. It just ended up happening.

His relationship with the Sniper had thrown his vow out the window. Now he had learned Heavy’s secret and strangely bonded with Medic over supernatural teammates. He cared for his companions, some more than others. He had previously said that he wouldn’t die for them but that had been his hubris talking. He’d gladly do whatever he could to keep them alive. Well, maybe not Scout.

Spy pushed open the doors to the infirmary. The room was empty but everything had been neatly put back into place last night with a little assistance from the Frenchman. He stepped past beds and various mediguns, finding the door to Medic’s office opposite the broken window. He knocked on it gently before being ushered in by the German’s voice.

He found Medic sitting behind his desk, filling out medical notes and various forms. Heavy was lying on a couch against the wall, a book balanced on one hand and his glasses perched above his nose. At the sight of the Frenchman, Mikhail closed his novel and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. He beckoned Spy closer and gave him a wide smile, glasses lifting with the motion.

“Thank you for help last night.” He said cheerily.

“I did not exactly do anything. Medic did most of the work.” Emile replied, sitting himself down on the coffee table so that he could face the Russian.

“Bah. Your help was dearly appreciated, mein freund.” Medic sighed as he frowned at something he was reading.

“Da! I understand you have problem with Sniper?”

“C’est vrai. It is a result of the Blood Moon.”

“Ah. Always knew skinny man was vampire. Can tell by just staring. They smell certain way too. Werewolf and vampire go back centuries.” Heavy said, shrugging. “Do not hate leetle man for it. We did not start conflict. What exactly is problem?”

“Sniper ‘ad commanded me to stay away from him until the moon disappeared. I cannot go anywhere near him.” He replied, fidgeting a little under the large man’s stare.

“Oh! Compulsion not easy to overcome. Very hard to do but not impossible. Strong mind can break it if know what to do. Weak baby mind cannot.”

“I do not believe that I ‘ave a weak baby mind.” He said slowly, wondering briefly if he actually did.

“Only you know if you do. Ask self, was there time that you had broken Compulsion by accident?”

Spy furrowed his brow. The only other time he remembered being compelled to do something was when he had first learned Sniper was a vampire. He had been forced not to move or speak. However, a few moments later he could do both again. Sniper had allowed him to speak again and he had thought that the man had released control the moment he had sunk his teeth into his neck. But, after hearing Heavy’s words, he had to think that he did that himself. But how?

“…I do.”

“See! No leetle baby minds here! Your attention was taken elsewhere, da?” After Spy’s nod he continued. “That is how you break Compulsion. Push it away. Is very hard to do. Is natural for mind to focus on what it does not want to do. Push it away by focusing on something else. Makes mind forget Compulsion for short while. Though, is not foolproof. Compulsion is still there and is easy for it to snap back into place. Only vampire that created order can take it away completely. And one need to know that they are controlled in first place. Hard to do if vampire make you forget.”

“So, the effect is only temporary?” He asked, frowning. “A vampire’s Compulsion is that powerful?”

“Kill vampire, kill command.” Heavy shrugged. “Not that strong.”

“Merci. Thank you for the information.” He sighed, rising from his seat.

“Da but before leave have something else to tell you. Blood Moon lasts whole week. Is nasty business. Influences every supernatural being on planet. Even now can feel the beast inside me trying to get out. Daytime it has less effect but is still there. What am trying to say is do not visit Sniper at night. Vampires dangerous the nights of Blood Moon. Will surely kill you if you do go.”

“I will…take that into consideration.” He said, absorbing the man’s words.

He bid the duo farewell before exiting the infirmary. He stared at the wall long and hard before deciding to walk back to the kitchen.

He merely needed to focus on something else. Simple. Though, he knew first hand that it wasn’t. After the Sniper had told him to not move, the first thing he had wanted to do _was_ move. It was the only thing he could think about. He had barely registered any of the man’s words after that and after he was allowed to speak he was given more mental flexibility. The moment that Sniper had finally bit him had been such a shock that he had forgotten his command. It was a very strange form of reverse psychology that went beyond Spy’s knowledge of the mind.

He knew it would be a taxing task but he also knew that it would be worth it in the end. So, so very worth it.

 

That must have been a personal record for taking out the Red spy that quickly. It had taken him under 15 seconds to find the little snake and plunge his dagger in his back before he had even gotten near the Engineer. It also gave him great time as he raced back to Blu base. He could see the Heavy, Medic and Demoman together, Soldier flying through the air. He noticed the rigid furrow of Mikhail’s brow as he aimed his minigun, shoulders so tense one could balance a boulder on them. It must have been difficult to control his beast and fight at the same time. He looked considerably more exhausted than he did that morning. And it was only a little past noon.

That made Spy quicken his footsteps as he finally returned to the main base. He hurried inside, dodging corner and walls. He thoroughly expected himself to halt suddenly, ready to catch himself if he fell backwards from the force. However, he was pleasantly surprised to find that he didn’t stop moving until he reached the base of the last set of stairs. His knees locked and his arms stiffened, legs shaking as he tried to move them.

He took in a deep breath, eyes focused on the door above him. He had to think about something else, needed to draw his mind from the Compulsion screaming at him with a vengeance. But what? His mind continued to draw on the fact that he was unable to move, that he wanted to take twelve steps back and hightail it out of there.

But he didn’t really _want_ that.

What he wanted to do was make sure the Sniper was alright. He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t starving for blood or that he was rotting away in a corner begging for someone to help him. He wanted to run his hand down the man’s cheek, feel his rough stubble against his fingertips. He wanted to feel the man against him, arms wrapped around his waist and drowning him in a beautiful warmth.

Spy fell forward suddenly, hands bracing his fall. He had control of his body again, a rush of adrenaline flooding into his veins.

Before he could think of anything else, he ran up the stairs and burst through the door. Sniper was standing at the window with his back to him, arms crossed. Spy let out several deep breaths as he waited for the man to say something, do anything. But he just stood there, watching as the others killed each other below him.

“I knew you’d break it.” Sniper said, voice lower than normal. “I expected nothing less from ya.”

Spy tried to ignore his words, eyes finding something to keep his mind occupied. He could feel his fingers starting to stiffen, feet itching to draw backwards.

“Are you alright?” He asked roughly.

“I wonder how ya did it. Did that idiot dog spill the beans? Or was it the Nazi?” The Australian laughed. “What’d you think about to get rid of it? Stabbing someone in the eye?”

“I know what you are trying to do.” He breathed, slowly moving towards the man.

“Do ya? Course ya do. Yer a spy. It’s your job to know what’s up. But you didn’t know that I was a vampire. Didn’t know the Russian was a lapdog. Didn’t know the Soldier ain’t got a form.”

“Are you ok, Jack?” He asked again, reaching his hand out to touch him.

Emile couldn’t tell if the man was fine with his back to him. His shoulders weren’t held as high as they normally were and there was a slight tremor in the man’s movements.   

“Peachy,” He hissed out, air passing through his teeth. “Beautifully, wonderfully peachy,”

Spy’s hand touched the back of Sniper’s arm and the man flinched instantly, jerking his arm away and moved closer to the window. He leaned forward onto the windowsill, head falling into his left hand.    

“I told you to stay away.” He said quietly, voice muffled by his hand. “Made you stay away,”

“I do not follow orders that easily.” Spy said, smiling halfheartedly.

“That’s for damn sure,”

Emile moved forward again and the moment his foot left the floor, Sniper moved to the right, bracing himself against the wall as he slumped against it.

“You were safe. Didn’t matter. Still wanted you. Still wanted a taste. Still want it now.” The marksman murmured. “Watched you run after that brute with the German. Watched you run away from me. Wanted you back. Wanted to kill them.”

Spy swallowed thickly. “Then remove the Compulsion,”

“No. No. No. No.” Sniper shook his head frantically. “Only way to keep you safe.”

“By keeping me away from you?”

“From keeping _me_ away from you,” He said grimly. “But you didn’t stay away. I need you to get away from me.”

“I cannot.”

“Get away from me.”

“I cannot.” He said shakily.

“Please,”

“I cannot!” He cried out, bringing his hands up to his face. “I just cannot. Je ne peux pas rester à distance.”

“Why?” Sniper hissed, back still facing him. “Why, Emile, why?”

He opened his mouth but he couldn’t say the words. They were there, burning brightly in his mind but he couldn’t voice them, couldn’t give them life. He only needed to speak them, only needed to whisper them. But he couldn’t. Not yet. Not today.  

Spy stepped closer, trembling hand finding Sniper’s shoulder. The man flinched again, hand against the wall balling into a fist.

“GET AWAY!” He shouted and Emile fell backwards with the force of the Compulsion, hitting the ground hard.

His head jerked to the right as he felt the Compulsion tying itself back around him, forcing him to drag himself backwards. He shook his head as he moved even further away, staggering upward as he hit the opposite wall. He could feel himself move towards the door, hands reaching for the doorknob.

Sniper had yet to move away from his spot in the corner, arms cradling his head as he listened to Spy move away.

“Jack,” He said hoarsely, fingers finding the handle. “Sîl vous plait,”

He swung the door open, stumbling out just as he did the last time. His lips threatened to let out a scream, the desire to hit something pulsing at his fingertips. He heard Sniper shift before he was carried down the stairs and back to the battlefield.

 

Perhaps Emile should heed Jack’s command. He had always been the one in control so he had always waved away another’s order. He did things on his own time and in his own way. That was just how he was. Apex predators listened to no one. So, he had barely given a thought to following what Sniper had wanted him to do. He wanted him to stay away and perhaps Emile should. It was obvious that the man wanted him to be as far away from him for both their sakes. He had kept saying that Spy was distracting him and that he wanted to feed off of him.

But, Emile knew that he wasn’t going to stay away. That damnable emotion wouldn’t let him and he wouldn’t let himself.

It was strange. He had this insatiable desire to see the Australian even though he knew that he was in a manic, dangerous state. His skin was itching to touch him, thoughts racing as he thought the worst was happening to the man. All he wanted to do was wrap his arms around his neck and tell him that they would get through this together. Sniper wanted him gone but Emile wanted him beside him. He had never been at such odds with himself, body and mind splitting in two. It was as if he had a rope tied around his waist, tugging him down a path he hadn’t created. Heavy allowed the Medic to help him and Spy thought that it was unfair that he wasn’t allowed to do the same for Sniper.

At the mention of the two, Spy looked over his coffee cup and across the dinner table to their vacant seats. They were gone again and Spy had to wonder if the Russian had transformed yet. His eyes wandered to the right, gaze finding the Soldier and Engineer who were quietly conversing to themselves. Sniper had mentioned something about the military man not having a form but Spy was staring at him clear as day. Perhaps he had been wrong when he said that, mind occupied.

However, the table jerked upward abruptly as Jane banged his hand against its underside. Dell laughed but it was a pathetic attempt at drawing attention away from whatever had just happened. Scout was giving them a weird look but his head turned sharply as the Demoman accidentally splashed hot oil on his hand. The Scotsman let out a string of curses that made the Bostonian burst out in laughter.

Pyro’s gaze had turned to the kitchen as well but Emile’s stayed glued to the couple. Engineer swallowed as he reached his hand under the table and it looked as if he had taken the Soldier’s, the particular one that he had hit. Jane let out a deep breath, eyes finding Dell’s. The Southerner smiled sweetly, tilting his head so that the tip of his helmet was out of the way. Soldier’s lips quirked upward as whatever had been wrong melted from his shoulders.

Suddenly, the mug Spy was holding shattered into pieces, spilling scalding hot coffee all over his hand. He hissed in pain as he shot upward, everyone’s eyes being drawn to the action. Pyro had instantly taken his arm and pulled him towards the sink, pushing the Demoman out of the way. His glove was swiftly removed and icy cold water was blanketed over his injury. He stared at it in surprise, pain pulsing from the reddening skin.

“Damn, Spy,” Scout said from the table, a washcloth in his hand as he mopped up the mess. “How tight were you holding that thing?”

He hadn’t of even realized he was gripping it so tightly, attention drawn specifically towards the Engineer and Soldier. He was just as confused as the others.

“Report to the infirmary ASAP, young man!” Soldier barked, pounding his troubled fist on the table.

If only they knew that the Medic was rather occupied at the moment.

Though, Spy started moving out of the room, shaking his head when Pyro offered to accompany him. Or, at least, that was what he thought the arsonist wanted to do.

He stepped into the hallway but stopped suddenly, legs refusing to move. He turned his head and was surprised to find Sniper standing just at the end of the hallway. He was stood tall, shoulders straight and lips drawn into a thin line. One of his hands was in his pocket, the other running over his jaw. He smirked as he moved closer and Spy instantly took two steps back. A frown touched the Australian’s lips before he reached up to lift his glasses.

Two bright crimson eyes met his and Spy felt a touch of fear go down his spine. Sniper’s eyes were like two forest fires blazing strongly into the night, captivating and rigorously dangerous at the same time. Their bioluminescence made them look sinister, two demons staring straight into Emile’s soul, begging for a taste.

“I release you.” Sniper said, voice sharp and volatile.

Spy instantly felt his legs relax, arms going slack, hand still stinging at his side.

“Follow me.” The Aussie grinned wickedly, lowering his glasses and turning away.

Emile let out a startled breath as his new Compulsion pulled at him to trail after the man, panic setting into his veins.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, ho, ho. I'm such a tease. 
> 
> I'm loving all of your comments :3


	8. Ghost in the Shell

Spy shivered as he walked up the steps to Sniper’ tower. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be near the man? But something felt wrong, like the world was tilted in the wrong direction.

_“What am trying to say is do not visit Sniper at night. Vampires dangerous the nights of Blood Moon. Will surely kill you if you do go.”_

_“You need to feed.”_

_“I’ll kill you. I’m gonna kill you if I do that.”_

He took in a deep breath, body buzzing with adrenaline. He stepped into the room, the Blood Moon’s auburn light streaming in through the window. Darkness touched much of the walls but this particular moon’s glow was so strong that it nearly illuminated the entire room. However, the second he was in the center of the room, he heard the door click closed. He turned towards it but was suddenly slammed up against the wall, Sniper’s hands running up his body.

“There you are.” The marksman whispered almost gleefully, body pressing against him eagerly. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“For me?” He breathed out, shuttering as one of Sniper’s hands ran down his chest. “You had been making it ‘ard for _me_ to find _you_.”

“I had been a gentleman then.” He paused as he slowly unbuttoned Spy’s blazer. “Ain’t now.”

He pushed the article of clothing off of him, it tumbling to the ground in a massive heap. Sniper’s fingers had brushed against the burn at Spy’s hand and the Frenchman visibly flinched. Sniper lifted up the injured hand, staring at it curiously. He smirked, running his tongue over the blistering skin slowly and sensually, ducking between fingers and knuckles.

Spy’s eyes fluttered but he forced them to remain focused, straining them in the dark to see the marksman better. Even under the red moon, he could see how much paler the man was, sun kissed skin nearly white beneath the light. There were beads of sweat rolling down the sides of his face and now that Spy was closer, he could see the slight tremor in the man’s shoulders, movements somewhat off.

He slid his hand from between Sniper’s, bringing both of them up to touch the man’s face. He ran his thumb over his rough jaw, fingers running over his chin and cheekbones. He wasn’t just paler. He was colder too, the telltale sign of a corpse. Spy knew something had been wrong the moment he had been crowded, the pleasant heat gone from the man.

“You are thirsty.” He breathed out.

“Starved,” Sniper whispered, loosening the Frenchman’s tie so that he could pull his collar away from his neck.

Spy’s knees began to shake as he reminded himself that he would surely die if he was going to continue this particular thought process. Respawn was off for the night. Medic was preoccupied. And Spy only had a certain amount of blood in his body. But he knew what he was going to say. He felt a deep desire to help Sniper as much as he could. It was so strong that any ounce of self-preservation he had was funneling itself out of his mind through a tube.

He’d do anything for this man.

“Then feed,” He said sharply, tilted his head to bare his neck.

Sniper blinked at him for a short moment before his lips curled into a sinister smile. He ducked his head down, licking a long strip up the curve of Spy’s neck and eliciting a beautiful shiver from the man. “Ya don’t know what you’re saying, mate.”

“I do. Je suis fou.” He added that last bit in for himself.

“No, you don’t. You’re telling me to take this, all of this. Every. Single. Drop.” Sniper whispered, breathing out heatedly. “I won’t be able to stop. You’re too good. So delicious. It’s already hard enough stopping normally. You taste way too good. The best I’ve ever had. You’re a pleasant little drug, Frenchie. I’m addicted to you.”

“As am I to you,” He gasped out as one of Sniper’s hands found purchase at his butt.

“I love your blood. I love your body. The things I wanna do to you…” The marksman hissed as his teeth ran over the fabric at Emile’s ear. “I tried to keep you away but I knew I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even have tried. I want you too much.”

“Then feed us both,” Spy’s voice began to tremble, heart rocketing into space. “Do it.”

Sniper laughed wickedly, sinking his fangs into his neck. Spy had to hand it to himself as he let out a loud moan. This had to be the best death in human history. He’d rather think of it as death by pleasure than death by blood loss. It would be a last middle finger to the human race on his tombstone. Going out in style was always the best way to die and given the fact that Spy was already elegantly blasé, it was a perfect aesthetic.

He should have been more concerned about his imminent death but for some reason, it barely crossed his mind. It must have been because of Jack holding him so closely, the heavy hands moving about his body. He was being pleasantly surrounded by a growing heat that was his own doing, fingers finding purchase at Sniper’s forearms. The Australian’s attention was solely on him and he liked it that way, a sick possessiveness curling around his heart.

His life didn’t flash before his eyes like he heard it would. No memories of a delicate childhood nor memories of joining Blu fluttered into his mind. He wasn’t exactly thinking of anything but the feel of Sniper against him, hot breath falling from his lips as he stared up at the ceiling.

Sniper hummed against him, a light vibration spreading from the spot at his neck.

That reminded him of the first time the vampire had bitten him. He had done that exact action and Spy had to wonder if it was because he had been surprised to find him moving against him. Compulsion was a bitch but it wasn’t concrete. Spy liked that though. Sniper wasn’t entirely perfect. Humans still had tricks up their sleeves. Spy had some tiny bit of control left.

His vision began to darken and this would be when Sniper would usually release him, pull away so that he’d recover his sanity.

But, instead, Jack lifted up his head just enough to distance his lips from Spy’s neck. The Australian slowly moved towards the other side, breath ghosting over his chin as he whispered, “Too good. Too good.”

He sunk his fangs into newer flesh and Spy flinched halfheartedly. He was used to the pain now and the ceiling was beginning to dance above him like a wave playing against the shore. His hands slid off of Sniper’s shoulders, slumping against the man’s arms. He could barely feel them. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion, his eyelids batting so sluggishly that he was surprised they were still even open.

His legs had given out beneath him at some point but he hadn’t of noticed due to Sniper’s vice grip. His head lolled back, hitting against the wall lightly. His heart was beating so fast that he was sure it would break the sound barrier in mere minutes. Everything around him was filtering out of view as the darkness moved closer and closer, the Blood Moon at its epicenter laughing hysterically.

He could vaguely make out a howl in the distance, absently wondering if the Medic was chasing after a wolf in the desert again. His thoughts had subsequently fallen to the team’s other supernatural couple. He had wanted to know what the Soldier really was but at this rate he would never get to ask.   

At that realization, he wanted to say something, lips trembling into motion. But he didn’t know what. His mind was almost gone from him, now practically a concept whispered among the world’s top scholars. Regardless, he encouraged himself to speak, finding his voice somewhere in the depths of his sanity as his eyes fluttered.

“I…I…”

That was all he could get out but it had done something he wasn’t expecting.

He distantly heard the Sniper take in a sharp breath, jerking away from his neck in the process. He pulled away as if Spy had burned him and fell backwards onto his bottom, a loud sound erupting as he impacted the floor. Without the support of the marksman, Emile began to fall forward, legs collapsing beneath him. He was caught almost as soon as his knees touched the ground, Sniper’s arms circling around him as he turned the Frenchman over.

“No. No. No. No. What have I—Emile! Emile, please. Please, no.” He heard the Australian stumbling over his words and he had to smile at that, vision nearly 100% blurred.

“Emile, come back to me. C-Come back. I need you. I can’t…I can’t…” Sniper’s voice disappeared as he began hyperventilating.

Spy’s lips began to move, fragile voice fighting to get out. But nothing did, eyes fluttering as his breathing slowed.

“I won’t let you go.” The Australian hissed out, words trembling. “I can’t.”

One of Jack’s arms had disappeared from around him and it made him feel so much colder than he already was. A few seconds later, he was rewarded with warm lips against his own. He couldn’t do much as his mouth was opened wide, a blazing hot liquid tumbling down his throat. He swallowed on reflex, body shivering as he was instantly warmed to the temperature of the sun. He tasted copper and iron, fingers twitching all of a sudden. Sniper had pulled away, a bloody wrist coming into view as the marksman ran a hand down his face.

For some reason, the image made him smile, consciousness finally drifting as darkness found its way into his mind.

 

Spy’s eyes slowly fell open as the sweet scent of coffee touched his nose. A large mug was held above his face, the Medic looking down at him curiously with a dove perched on his shoulder. The moment their eyes met, the cup was pulled away and the German tilted his head. Spy turned, groaning with the action, and found that he was in a bed in the infirmary. Bright sunlight was streaming in through the windows, painting the room with an angelic brush. Spy struggled to sit up, labored breaths falling from him as the Medic assisted him in the motion.

“I…” His voice was hoarse and it was nearly painful as he cleared his throat before continuing. “I am not dead?”

“Not yet, mein freund.”Alric scoffed, waving his hand in the air. Spy reached for the cup of coffee but was shooed away as the Medic brought it close to his chest. “Zis is not for you. Here,” He was handed a glass of water instead. “You are thirsty, ja?”

“Incredibly,” He replied, throat so dry it could rival the intensity of sandpaper.

“It is normal. Class III hemorrhaging is not a valk in ze park.”

“What?” He asked, flinching as his head pulsed with a throbbing pain.

“Blood loss,” Alric replied, a strange expression crossing his face. “You had been dangerously close to class IV vhen I found you. Actually, you had already been laid out on one of ze beds when I arrived.”

Spy moved to touch his neck but was stopped by the tug of a needle at his arm. A plastic tube led from the bend of his elbow up to a pouch of blood hanging from a metal stand. In dark, glossy letters it read O-. He also noticed that his dress shirt had been removed, leaving him in his undershirt. A quick touch to his face told him that his mask was still on, a sigh of relief falling from his lips. The hand he had burned the night before was completely healed, a result of Alric’s caretaking no doubt.

“Ve are vell stocked in O- blood but are unfortunately very lacking in the others. I suppose it does not matter. You are the universal recipient after all.” Medic sighed, staring at the blood bag as well.

“I am what?”

“AB negative, the rarest blood type in humans,” He replied, downing his coffee in a single go.

“Oh,” Spy’s brows furrowed as he took in the information but he ultimately turned away from the blood in favor of staring at the Medic.

His hair appeared as if it had been lazily put back into place after being jostled, a few strands rebelling against their positions. He had tired eyes, dark circles even deeper against his pale skin. He had a slight tremor in his hand, coffee cup trembling ever so slightly. That was also when Spy realized the man’s lab coat was off, the sleeves of his shirt pulled back at about ¾. Peeking through on his right arm were four red scratches, the rest disappearing back behind fabric. At his collar were specks of blood, originating from something hidden beneath his shirt. His pants were slightly dusted, much of it accumulating around his knees and shoes. One of his birds was nuzzling his neck but he was barely giving it any attention.  

“It appears I was not the only one who had gone through an…eventful evening.” Spy said blankly and the German let out a nervous laugh before clearing his throat.

“I have been up since yesterday morning.” He smiled halfheartedly. “Last night’s sequence of events did not give me much…” He waved his hand in the air just like Spy did when he was trying to find an English word to fit his meaning. “…pause.”

Medic stepped towards a metal table where one of his mediguns had been thrown upon it. He flicked the switch, placing his coffee cup beside it and shooing his dove off of his shoulder. He aimed the healing beam towards himself and Spy watched as he was bathed in a rich blue glow, a long scratch at his back collar melding back together.

“Can that not help me as well?” He asked.

Medic switched the gun back off and shook his head as he moved towards him again. The dark circles were still prevalent on his face and that tremor was still at his hands. However, his wounds were gone and he was much less paler.

“Ze medigun can do many things but it cannot restore your lost blood completely. Zat must be done by you and you alone. It can give you some back but you’ve lost so much zat you need to recover a bit longer” He replied, a frown touching his face. “I…vould be grateful if you did not mention my injuries to Mikhail. He hates vhen I am harmed especially vhen he is the cause.”

“Oui,” Spy nodded, fingers finding his temples. “Was…did you see the Sniper at all this morning or yesterday?”

“Nein. You vere the only one in the infirmary vhen I had found you and he vas absent from breakfast zis morning. So vere the Engineer and Soldier.”

“I believe the Soldier is not entirely human either. Though I do not know what he is.”

“Did Blutarch recruit supernatural beings on purpose or are zey so numberous zat the chance of having three on our team vas inevitable?” Medic mused, tapping his chin in thought. “Zeir existence throws science to its knees.”

Spy opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the Engineer bursting into the room, helmet in one hand with the other rubbing at his eyes. “Hey, doc, I was wonderin’ if—” The southerner looked up and stopped the moment he saw the Spy. “Sorry, thought you were by yerself.”

“It is quite alright, herr Engineer. Vat is it?”

“Do ya got anything strong for a headache? Like I’m talkin’ knock out an elephant strong.” He asked as he stepped towards them.  

“Ja, of course. I vill be right back.”

Medic scurried away, Spy barely managing to voice the fact that he wanted some too. The Frenchman turned his head, eyes roaming over the Texan beside him. He looked relatively alright. No strange scratches. No bruises. No marks. His goggles were slid up to his forehead, presenting his own set of dark circles, mirroring the consequences of being the lover of someone rather unconventional. The man appeared ready for the day, though he was sucking his bottom lip, bouncing from foot to foot.

“What’s gotcha in here, Spah?” He asked conversationally.

“I suppose I should start by saying that a third of our team is of the supernatural variety. Your Soldier is one of them.”

Engineer’s brows rose in interest as Medic returned with two small paper cups. He handed one to each individual, leaving and returning with two other cups full of water. Both men downed the pills eagerly, giving their thanks to the German.

“A third? Who are the other two? It ain’t…” He moved his finger in the air between the two in front of him.

“Not us, per se,” Alric replied, a smile touching his face.

“Heavy?” His eyes narrowed almost comically as he stared at Emile. “…And Sniper?”

“Verewolf and vampire, respectively,”

“Well I’ll be damned! I didn’t think there was anyone else like Jane on this team. Or on this base actually.”

“What exactly is the Soldier?” Sniper had told Spy that the man ‘ain’t got no form’ but that had been as vague as a teacher passing out a blank piece of paper.

Dell opened his mouth to speak but shut it, finger coming up to tap at his chin. He opened his mouth again but furrowed his brows as he huffed out a breath of air. “It’s kinda hard to explain. He…it…I…it’s kinda like…I don’t know.”

“Explain it as simply as you can. It is best that we know these things about each other.” Emile said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Engineer released his lips with a pop as he said, “Jane is…well, he died during World War II and was resurrected by a necromancer. However, the process was interrupted abruptly and Jane’s soul didn’t get reattached to his body. It manifested itself on the physical plane and he’s flesh and blood just like us. It’s just that he’s still connected to…the other side. If he really concentrates he can move things with his mind and bring things back that used ta be around. But sometimes he can flicker in and out of existence, parts of him or all of him. H-He always comes back. It never fails to scare the living daylights out of me though. He also sees things we don’t. Like ghosts and past memories of a place. That’s why he’s a little…” He shook his hands in the space around his head for emphasis.

Spy and Medic shared a glance, a shrug befalling the German. “So, ze man is a ghost?”

“Not really,”

“And ‘e is not entirely alive?” Spy added.

“Not entirely dead either,” Engineer smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right now he’s off…somewhere. He was gone when I woke up. He’ll be back though.”

A moment of silence fell over the trio, each lost in thought about their respective partners.

However, Medic soon clapped his hands saying, “Vell, a mission vill be commencing soon. Hopefully ze Soldier will be joining us. And you, Spy, must remain on bedrest for the next few days. No fighting. No overworking yourself. I vould like to keep you here for the duration of your recovery.”

Dell and Alric bid him adieu, leaving after the Medic had collected his gear.

Now that he was finally alone, Emile calmly reached back and took his pillow in hand. He stared at it for god knows how long before throwing his head into it and screaming.         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we know that the Soldier is...kind of. 
> 
> These three should make a club
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the chapter :3


	9. Cheesy Romance

Spy had spent the last two days in the infirmary. Medic had unhooked his blood supply after the first day but he still had to remain in bed until he was fully recovered. Engineer had visited him a few times, twice to talk about the supernatural and two more to bring him food. The southerner had detailed that the Soldier did eventually return, popping into existence right next to his dispenser in the middle of battle. Dell had hit him across the face before pulling him in for a long, deep kiss.

Last night Spy had witness Medic rush into the infirmary, running straight for his office. He had returned after several minutes of frantic searching, a syringe in his hand. He had given the Frenchman a short wave before hurrying away as a howl rang into the air. That same night, Emile also heard agitated footsteps go down the hallway before he heard the Engineer yelling for Jane to come back.

Spy wondered why he had never noticed the fact that Medic and Heavy disappeared from dinner once a month or the fact that the Soldier would randomly be AWOL at some point in the day. Perhaps it had been because he thought these to be completely normal things. They had appeared mundane, Heavy and Medic leaving to probably have a private dinner and Soldier finding some place to just be by himself. Only someone insane would have attributed these actions to something beyond human nature. But, that person would have been 100% right.

Tonight it was much calmer with a lack of frantic Germans and hysterical Texans. In the sky, the moon was fading into a soft pink, its bloody features hiding away until next year.

Spy wondered if the Sniper was doing alright, the Australian having yet to visit. He wondered how the man had acted after depositing a blood drained Emile onto one of the hospital beds. He wondered if he was angry with him for defying his will twice. Three times if you counted encouraging him to feed on him.

But Sniper had needed it. He would have surely died from thirst or at least gone crazy in that tower of his. Sure Spy had nearly died but it was worth it in the end. The Ends justified the means.

Emile was seated sideways on his infirmary bed, legs swinging back and forth. The only real light in the room was the moon, a pinkish-grey hue blanketing the air. Emile’s eyes had adjusted to the darkness a long while ago, eyes easily picking out every bed and table in the room.

He let out a deep sigh, quietly hoping that the Sniper would visit him at least once. Spy had wanted to go see him but he knew that his legs were still a little too weak to carry him far and he also knew that the vampire would probably just compel him to leave. This…infatuation of his was getting out of control.

He had to laugh at that. He was still calling it a simple infatuation.

The infirmary doors slowly pushed open and Spy strained his eyes to see if it was either the Heavy or Medic coming to get something. However, the figure appeared to be too skinny to be the Russian and too tall to be the German. Emile instantly knew who it was.

Sniper silently moved deeper into the room stopping just short of Spy’s bed. They were face to face now, the Australian’s hands shoved into his pockets. Emile was unable to say anything, fingers itching to reach out and touch the man. He wanted to say that he was ok and that none of this was the vampire’s fault. But he didn’t know how to word it correctly, didn’t know how to apologize for how he behaved.

So, instead, he said, “Please take your glasses off.”

Sniper let out a long stream of air the sound being divided as it ran through his teeth near the end. Regardless, he pulled one of his hands from his pocket and removed his aviators, bright eyes owl-like in the darkness. They were a hybrid of red and green, half of each iris a different color. It signified the slow end to the Blood Moon’s reign, also perhaps to a time of peace.

Spy reached his hands out, a slight tremor with the movement. He wrapped them around the Sniper’s wrists but the Australian shook his head and stepped back. Emile dropped his hands in defeat, a sigh at his lips. “…The Medic says I am going to be alright. ‘e may release me in the morning.”

The marksman didn’t say anything, eyes falling away to look out the window.

“We found out what the Soldier was from Engineer. I think.” Spy said. He was running out of things to say and the man’s silence was doing nothing to quell his nerves. “I cannot…please say something.”

“It was right stupid what you did.” Despite the grave tone, Sniper’s voice was music to his ears.

The hubris in the Frenchman made him cross his arms and frown. “Nothing I do is stupid.”

“Nothing?” Jack laughed, pacing from one end of the bed to the other. “I was keeping you away to protect you and ya just…just threw caution to the wind and did whatever the hell you wanted.”

“’That whatever the ‘ell you wanted’ was to make sure you ‘adn’t of gone crazy in that damn tower of yours, imbécile!” Spy huffed out. “You would ‘ave surely died had I not done anything.”

“If you hadn’t of done anything, you wouldn’t be in here in the first place.” Sniper said low, a growl practically running from his lips.

“I am fine now, Jack.”

“But you weren’t then!” He yelled, kicking a bed over. Sniper brought his hands up to his face, throwing his hat off during the action. “I nearly bled you dry, Emile. I nearly killed you! If I hadn’t of—If I didn’t—”

He had broken out into several gasped breaths before collapsing to the floor. Spy lifted himself upward, landing gracelessly onto the cool ground before steadying himself. His muscles were stiff, knees shaking as they dusted off their cobwebs. He took a hesitant step towards the Australian and nearly fell over, catching himself with an almost comical shuffling of his feet. He let out a frustrated sigh before moving towards the vampire.

Spy dropped to his knees beside him, happy that Sniper didn’t push him away. He placed a hand to his shoulder and the marksman flinched as he tried to move away. However, Emile firmly took the man’s shoulders in his hands which was difficult given the fact that Spy was facing his side. Regardless, he remained rooted in place even though he knew that if Sniper really wanted to get away he would have done it easily.

Sniper sighed, eyes downcast as he whispered, “Why did you do all of that for me?”

“Because I love you,” Emile smiled, heart fluttering a little as he finally said what he had been avoiding for weeks.

Jack let out a weak laugh, tilting his head to rest it against Emile’s chest. “You shouldn’t.”

Spy remained silent, arms rising to cradle the Australian’s head. He hadn’t of been expecting a declaration of love in return. He knew enough about the world to know that romantic tales were only silly little stories. He didn’t know what he had wanted the Sniper to say but he hadn’t of been expecting those two little words. However, this wasn’t rejection. He didn’t know what this was. But for now, he’d settle for this.

 

The next morning, Medic had indeed discharged Spy, saying that he was mostly recovered and that he would be able to join them in the day’s battle. And Spy was actually happy to find all of his companions seated at the breakfast table. Heavy looked less knackered and fatigued than he had at the beginning of the week and Soldier was more attentive and talkative, hands moving animatedly as he spoke about the plans for the rest of the day. Sniper appeared relatively normal, pushing about his food while Demoman told him about the time he nearly lost his left arm.

However, the moment Spy had laid eyes upon the man, a wash of vertigo touched his vision, making him squeeze his eyes shut. His heart powered into motion, practically vibrating out of his chest as he put his fork down. He touched his fingers to his head as he opened his eyes again. He looked up, much of his vision stabilizing. His gaze fell upon Sniper who was raising his eyebrow at him. That same wave of dizziness hit him like a rocket and his head rolled about as he tried to blink it away, thoughts becoming a jumbled mess of a child’s puzzle.

“Herr Spy, are you ok?” Medic had laid his hand on his shoulder and that had suddenly snapped him back to reality.

The others were staring at him, curious gazes shared amongst his teammates. He straightened up, rolling his shoulders as he said, “Oui. I must have turned my ‘ead too sharply.”

Alric squinted at him but ultimately said, “Ah. Take it easy in today’s battle. Ve vouldn’t vant you back in ze infirmary now, ja?”

Spy nodded, blinking as his vision returned to normal. Only the Engineer and Medic knew exactly why Spy had been in the hospital and the man was sure they had told their respective partners about it as well. He couldn’t blame them. The supernatural was beginning to become a typical topic between the team. Though, the Demoman, Pyro and Scout were still none the wiser to their secrets. At least, Spy thought they were. He had never really thought the Pyro to be human and he didn’t know what Tavish had up his sleeve. And he sincerely doubted Thomas would catch on any time soon.

The rest of breakfast went without a hitch and as Spy readied his gun at Blu’s gate entrance, he had to wonder if that bout of dizziness was a lingering symptom of his excessive blood loss. He had felt relatively fine when he had woken up in the morning though he had to admit that there had been a slight fuzziness about him. It was like a pleasant buzzing sensation at the back of his mind, lulling him into a state of tranquility. He had thought that had been something the doctor had given him to help him get through the day but Medic’s concern during breakfast refuted that claim.

Regardless, Spy spun the cylinder of his revolver, clicking it back into place and sliding it into his waistband. He needed to focus. He needed to shake this off and perform like the spy he knew he was.

As the Announcer counted down, he saw the Soldier patting himself frantically as the Engineer watched in amusement. Heavy and Medic were grinning at each other like an old married couple and the Pyro was wedged between them, bouncing excitedly. Scout was running around with Demoman’s liquor bottle, laughing as the Scotsman tried to catch him.

Spy let out a light sigh, shaking his head as he adjusted his gloves. However, that delightful buzzing fluttered back into his mind as he heard, “Emile?”

He whirled around and found the Sniper looking down at him, a frown at his lips.

A sudden giddiness fell over Spy, making him grin widely. “Yes, Jack?”

“Ya sure yer alright?”

He laughed pleasantly, swaying to an imaginary rhythm. “Je me sens bien.”

“I…don’t know what that means.”

“Ça va,” He pouted playfully.

“Spy,” Sniper sighed as he rubbed his arm across his nose.

“Ah, you worry too much.” He said, patting the man’s chest as the gate doors slid open. “Now, return to your tower, there is much to be done.”

Spy moved away but was turned around swiftly by Sniper’s hand at his arm. The Australian furrowed his brows before shaking his head. “Nah, ya ain’t alright.”

He grabbed him by the legs and lifted him over his shoulder. Spy let out a startled yelp but giggled as Sniper began walking back into the base. Not much was said between them as they returned to Sniper’s tower, Spy too busy admiring the view from where he was.

Sniper deposited him on the ground beside the window, sitting down in his stool before taking up his rifle. “Now stay there so I can keep an eye on ya.”

“Is that all you want to do, mon cher?” Emile said, running his hand down his chest suggestively.

Sniper didn’t respond, firing his rifle twice.

Spy adjusted himself against the wall, shifting upward with his shoulders. His eyes fell over the man in front of him, a giddy grin touching his face. Sniper’s arm muscles were bulging, tense as he held his rifle. His legs were spread wide as he leaned forward, sunglasses tipping upward while he peered through the scope. Spy could see the concentration at his shoulders, lips parting slightly as he trailed a target.  

A fluffy feeling fell over Emile, one that made heat spread across his body, made him squirm. He unbuttoned his blazer and lazily shrugged out of it, pushing it away as he fanned himself. He only vaguely remembered to push his gun away from him as well. He let out a long stream of air, eyes finding the Australian again. He took his time appreciating the man’s features, the strong line of his jaw, the stubble just barely peeking through. Even his nose was perfect, just the right size and just the right shape.

But there was something wrong. His attention wasn’t on Emile.

No. That wouldn’t do.

Spy frowned as he pushed away from the wall and stood up. Dizziness was there to meet him the moment he reached a different altitude. He brushed it away as he carelessly batted at the gun Sniper was holding. The Australian released it, leaning back to curiously look him in the eye. He placed his hands on his shoulders and deposited himself right on the man’s lap, legs either side of him.

Spy languidly pulled the man’s glasses off and threw them to the ground, arms wrapping around his neck. “You asked me once why I always wanted your glasses off.”

“I did.” He replied, gaze darting over their positions.

“It is because I think your eyes are the epitome of beauty, a stunning visage of an emerald cavern hidden behind senseless sunglasses. They are too magnifique to be put away. I can stare at them for ‘ours.”

“Medic must have given you one hell of a drug.” Sniper murmured.

Spy hummed. “Everything about you is making me go insane.”

The Australian started to laugh but stopped himself as realization dawned on him. He pushed Emile back a bit, receiving a disappointed groan from his companion. “Wait, I know what this is.”

“It is wonderful.” Spy sighed, head lolling back in emphasis.

“No. No, this is because of me. I thought all of my blood woulda been out of your system by now but I was wrong. I shouldn’t have gone to visit you last night.” He said shaking his head. “Yer going through Junctus. My blood in you is making you want me.”

“I ‘ave always wanted you.” He whispered. “Always wanted your touch, your attention, your everything.”

“No, you need to get off of me. You need to keep as must distance from me as possible.”

“Not this again,” He whined, hands running down Sniper’s chest. “You know I cannot do that. Je t’adore, remember?” The Australian looked away, hands balling into fists at his legs. Spy lifted one hand back up to turn the man’s head towards him. “You could easily lift me off of you if you really wanted to.”

“The problem is that I don’t wanna.” Sniper murmured, swallowing thickly.

“You do not?” He repeated, grinning widely. “You had said that there were things you wanted to do to me. Then, do them.”

“This ain’t the time or place.” The marksman replied though his hands ran up Spy’s back, eliciting a shiver from the Frenchman.

“Why not? No one is watching.” He whispered, fingers drifting dangerously low.  

“Yeah but ya ain’t exactly yerself.” Sniper’s grip tightened around him, a shaky breath falling from his lips. “Won’t be in good conscience,”

“Good conscience? Is this because you do not love me? I am not upset but I am very slightly vexed.” Spy pouted, shoulders sagging.

Sniper searched his face for something, eyes darting over his visible features. The man lowered his head, hands losing strength at his back. “I…”

“It is alright.” Spy said, tilting Sniper’s head back up. “I will still love you.”

The man’s face fell, brows furrowing and lips trembling. He looked everywhere that wasn’t Emile, body growing restless, one knee bouncing erratically. “I don’t understand. Why? Why? Why me?”

He smiled. “That is like asking why the sun shines or why rain falls. I just do.”

Sniper started shaking his head, lips fighting to form words. “I can’t…I can’t…”

The Australian dropped his head to Emile’s chest, hands desperately clutching at his shirt.

The fuzziness began to lift from Spy’s mind, giddiness drifting away like dandelions in the wind. His mind replayed the whole day back to him, finishing with his conversation with Sniper. His smile faded, eyes losing their previous merriment. He brought his hands up to rest at the back of Sniper’s head, his cheek pressing against the man’s hair.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. Usually Sniper had a way with words, a sharp tongue and an even sharper diction. He’d be able to bring someone to their knees with just his voice, destroy them from the inside out. He could get underneath Spy’s skin so easily that it was practically child’s play. However, in the moments when he was emotional, Sniper would fumble over words as if he had never learned English in the first place. He’d stutter, trail off, hyperventilate or end up doing something that would let him vent his frustration, like kicking over a hospital bed. Sniper was a smooth talker but not in the moments it mattered the most.    

“You do not use your words well when you are emotional.” Emile murmured.

“Always been a problem for me,” Sniper whispered, taking in a deep breath. “It’s hard to get it all out.”

“One word at a time then,” He said, rubbing circles into the man’s neck. “Do not force it.”

Sniper nodded against him, arms tightening around his waist.

“What is wrong?” Spy asked gently.

It was a while before the Australian spoke, shaky breaths falling from his lips. “Afraid,”

“Of?”

“Killing you,”

“Me? But you did not.”

“But I will. I know I will. It’s happened before and it’ll—it’ll happen again. Even thinking about feeding from you terrifies me. Any thought of hurting you makes me go crazy. If I keep…If I keep you near me you will never be safe. But I can’t let you go. I can’t. Pushing you away during the Blood Moon was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I needed you but I had to keep you away. Needed to keep you safe but I still—I still—” Sniper broke out into several gasps, shoulders beginning to shake.

Spy lifted the marksman’s head, their eyes meeting as he smiled. “You will not kill me.”

“How do you know?” He whispered pleadingly.

Emile brought his fingers to the bottom of his mask, pinching the fabric and swiftly pulling it off. He dropped it to the ground as Sniper ran his eyes over him, memorizing every feature he could as if the image would fall away in mere seconds.

Emile smiled nervously and said, “That is like asking why the sun shines or why the rain falls. I just do.”

Sniper removed his hand from Spy’s back, fingers tracing over Emile’s jaw and cheeks, running over his nose and eyes, over so much unexplored skin. The man cracked a smile before drawing him into a kiss. Spy felt warmth rush into him, heart vigorously thrumming against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Sniper’s neck, pulling them as close as he could.

Perhaps those cheesy romantic tales held _some_ merit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are almost done, guys!! :3
> 
> I'm loving the support. 
> 
> And flustered Sniper is life.


	10. This Is Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ever since you've been my ace of hearts  
> Hit me like a freight train in the dark  
> Come on baby take me far away  
> I wanna get so lost in the great escape"
> 
> -Ace of Hearts by Zella Day

Spy’s eyes fluttered open, morning light streaming in through his window. He turned over in bed, Sniper’s sleeping form coming into view. A smile touched the Frenchman’s face and he moved closer, the arms around him tightening. He let out a sigh, hand gently touching the man’s chest, heart a pleasant feeling at his fingertips.

When he had signed on to Blu team, Spy hadn’t of expected to fall in love. It had seemed like a terrible idea given the environment and Spy wasn’t the type to pull his heart out of his chest and give it to the first person who asked. His desire for control deemed relationships difficult, Spy not desiring to release the grip he had on his life. He needed control. He needed power, confidence. His pride was too great for him be in the shadows.

However, the moment Emile had first stepped into Sniper’s tower it was as if he had stepped into a lion’s den. He had no control over the sequence of events that would follow and no ability to sway any of Sniper’s actions. The man was an enigma, a powerhouse that listened to no one, a true predator. Control came to him as easily as a bee did to a flower.

At first, that had unnerved Spy. _He_ wanted control. He didn’t want to give it up to anyone else. But no matter how hard he tried not to, he would be running back into the palm of Sniper’s hand. The man had instantly enthralled him, intrigued him and made him see himself differently. Spy didn’t want that. He knew who he was and he didn’t need anyone else telling him what he was or wasn’t.

However, a loss of control was exactly what he needed. Sniper’s unpredictability was captivating and exciting, a beautiful change in such a mundane life. He made Emile feel alive. Spy had soon found himself pleasantly addicted to the man, craving his every touch and his undivided attention. But somewhere somehow, the emotionally distant Spy had fallen in love. His desire for the man went beyond physical needs to a true desire for his wellbeing.

At first, Spy had hated himself for falling, hated the fact that it had been because of this particular Australian vampire. He hated how he needed the man, hated everything about himself. But soon, he grew frightened. He knew that if he accepted his feelings for Sniper that his last bit of control would belong to someone that wasn’t himself. He’d no longer be one person. He’d be two.

But now, as Spy ran his hand down Sniper’s cheek, he was glad he had fallen. He was glad that the Australian returned his feelings though the man still had yet to tell him out loud. He didn’t need to. Spy saw it in the way he smiled at him, in the way that he kissed his forehead and in the way he’d just…stare at him. No words were needed when actions would speak so much louder for him. Sniper would just end up adorably fumbling over himself if he tried to explain.

“Are you even asleep?” Spy asked, narrowing his eyes.

“No,” A grin touched the vampire’s lips. “But it’s nice to just lay here with ya.”

Emile laughed, rolling over top of him and resting his chin at his chest. “So, you just watched me the entire night?”

“I’m not that creepy.” Sniper replied, eyes finally opening. “But I did.”

“Did you enjoy the view, mon cher?” He asked with a smile, propping his head up on his hand.

“Thoroughly,” The Australian ran his fingers down Emile’s jaw.

Spy wiggled against him as he sat up, knees either side of him. “I ‘ope you do not get tired of it.”

“That’s impossible.” Sniper whispered, following him up. “I’m addicted to ya, Emile.”

“That reminds me.” He said, arms wrapping around the man’s neck. “I think I understand why my blood is so tasteful to you.”

“Tasteful?” Sniper repeated in amusement.

“The Medic told me that I have the rarest blood type in humans. That must be why you find it so delectable.”

The Australian’s eyes flickered downward, brows furrowing for a fraction of a second before returning to normal. “Sure,”

“Is there another reason?”

“No. Well…”

“Jack,” He prodded, bumping their foreheads together.

“I dunno. Blood types never really affect taste. It all comes down to the person and what the vampire sees in the person. Generalizations come from that. ‘Oh this girl will probably taste like this because blah blah blah’.” Sniper waved his hand in the air for emphasis before replacing it against Emile’s waist.

“What do you see in me?” He asked curiously.

“My equal,” Jack smirked. “Yer the only person I know that can throw my entire world upside down just by smiling.” That statement made Emile’s lips curl upward, Sniper laughing jovially. “You’ve got so much control over me and ya don’t even know it.”

“ _I_ have control over _you_? I do believe it is the other way around. You ‘ave such a dominance over me that I am surprised I ‘ave not been crushed under it.”

“Guess we’re both suckers,” The Australian laughed, kissing Emile’s cheek gently. “Though, there’s also this…nah, never mind.”

“What is it?”

Sniper’s eyes darted everywhere but Emile, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck. “There’s kinda this old myth, saying, tale or whatever in the vampire community. It’s not taken real serious but it, uh, says that, uh—”

“You are stumbling over your words again.” Spy said, running his hand up the man’s arm.

“Right, sorry. It says that the blood of your true love will taste like liquid gold, like it had come straight outta the heavens. You’d want nothing but it for the rest of your life, all other blood failing in comparison to the beauty you had tasted.”

Emile smiled, leaning forward and lifting himself up to grant the vampire easy access to his neck. “So, tell me, Jack, does my blood taste like liquid gold to you?”

He gulped. “It tastes like paradise.”

“Then ‘ave some,”

Sniper laughed nervously before pushing Emile back down. Spy pouted but ultimately lowered himself. “Yer still recovering from blood loss.”

“That is not all of it, is it?” He said softly, a sigh falling from his lips.

The Australian looked away, hands falling away from Emile’s waist. He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the Soldier yelling for everyone to get up for breakfast just outside the door. He must have been banging something, sounds of metal being hit erupting from the hallway. He was probably using his pot that would sometimes double as his hat. Dell was soon heard hushing the man, saying something incoherent as the banging ceased.

Spy looked away from the door and up at Sniper who’s gaze was locked with the bed sheets. Emile sighed, running a hand down the man’s chest before getting up and preparing for the day.

 

Red team’s Spy was a joke. Perhaps it was just because Emile was simply better than him but Red’s Spy was so predictable that he could draw a map of the joker’s route throughout 2fort. His counterpart would always hurry to Blu’s intelligence, hoping to one day catch the Engineer off guard and give his team an easy victory. But that would never happen. Dell was too smart for that and Emile would never let that slippery bastard have any sort of advantage in the field.

And so, Emile spent the entire battle hunting Red’s Spy. It was a delightful experience, easily cutting the man down and waiting for him to return. Emile was like a lion on the prowl, toying with his prey and luring them into a fall sense of security before attacking. He’d follow behind Red’s Spy as he trudged through the sewers, watch as he’d disguise as one of his teammates and try to take them out. He never succeeded. He received an A for effort though.

Emile knew what his counterpart was to him: a distraction. He made a game out of his enemy so that he would keep himself from visiting Sniper in his tower. He knew the Australian needed his distance after their conversation that morning. He also knew the real reason he wouldn’t feed off of him.

It was ridiculous. The master of caution and calculation was afraid of repeating his mistakes during the Blood Moon. He had been under the influence of something he had no control over. Emile’s hospitalization was not his fault in the least. If one needed to point fingers, then it was Emile’s fault entirely. He had been the one pushing to be near the man when he had explicitly stated that it would be too dangerous. Emile had been selfish.

He sighed, turning the corner and entering the main area. He spotted Tavish firing off at his enemy counterpart and Mikhail and Alric making a stand at their end of the bridge. Spy wanted his relationship with Sniper to be like the Heavy and Medic’s. Those two were perfect together and they looked so happy that it was blinding to stare at them for too long. They had the relationship people dreamed off. It was impossible to think that anything bad had ever happened between them. If perfection actually existed, those two would be the poster children for the concept.

However, Spy knew that there must have been bad moments in their history. Heavy’s status as a werewolf took its toll on Medic. He had seen that in the infirmary. They had their share of turmoil just like any other couple. Emile wondered how many arguments they had had throughout their history knowing each other, wondered how small or large their issues had been. He wondered if they had to spend time away from each other because of them, running back to each other after realizing something while staring up at the stars.

Then, there was Dell and Jane, a mortal man and a man who only half existed. Spy wondered if the Engineer had spent nights worrying about the whereabouts of his ghost, wondering if he’d ever return. He was the master of the waiting game. Perhaps that was why Emile would sometimes find him locked in his workshop tinkering away at some random project. Perhaps that was to keep his mind occupied while his lover was off somewhere in the great beyond. It made Spy think of what was typically running through Soldier’s mind. Was he so fractured that his thoughts were simply jumbled strings of consciousness? Would something catch his attention and he’d run after it all over the base?

And then Emile saw it. Blu team’s supernatural couples were points in a beautiful relationship. Dell and Jane were the middle, issues still present and evident but manageable and fixable. Alric and Mikhail were what it was after everything was dealt with. They had their problems but they were so miniscule that they were practically child’s play. And Emile and Jack were its tender beginnings, raw emotion creating much of their conflict.

Or perhaps Spy was being a romantic.

He sighed, jumping as the Announcer blared out that battle was over. It was Blu’s victory again and he could imagine Soldier jumping for joy, grabbing Dell by the shoulders and kissing him roughly.

Regardless, he followed his team back inside, shaking his head as he saw Scout give Red his middle finger. Medic and Heavy were already heading to the kitchen, it being the German’s turn to cook. Tavish ambled off to more than likely drink liquor and Pyro and Scout were following after him probably to tease him. Soldier and Engineer were arm in arm, the military man detailing to his lover something he had seen in the sewers.

Spy’s eyes flickered down the hallway as he moved deeper into the base, a frown at his lips. He decided against finding Sniper in his tower and chose to return to his room to clean his weapons. They could easily distract him and make dozens of hours go by like they were nothing.

But, this time, they didn’t.

It had felt like he had aged a thousand years before dinner was ready.

He rolled his eyes at himself as he entered the kitchen, the room already bustling with activity. Medic was behind the counter, stirring what appeared to be soup as Heavy told the Scout and Pyro how strong he _really_ was. There was no mention of the supernatural but both of them were so intrigued that it seemed as if there had. Demoman was commenting every so often, relating this to that and those to these. Sniper was watching in amusement, a hand beneath his chin. His lips quirked upward as Emile approached and the Frenchman had to wonder if he was staring at him.

However, that wonder fell away the moment he noticed that the Soldier was absent from the table. His attention turned to the Engineer who was laughing about something Heavy had said. The man appeared relatively normal, a grin spread across his face. But only an ignorant person would fall for this ruse. Spy could see the strain on his lips as he forced out that smile, the worry at his brow. His hands were drawn together under the table no doubt held together so tightly that he could break a bone. His goggles were hanging at his neck, gaze flickering between his companions and the empty seat beside him.

Spy opened his mouth to say something but stopped the moment he realized he didn’t really know what to voice.

His eyes fell over Sniper who was staring at him so intently that he could feel his gaze even through the man’s aviators. Sniper was tapping his finger against his arm, lips drawn into a tight line. He was thinking about something, Spy was sure of it. He was also sure it had something to do with him. Of course it did.

A breath of air fell from the Australian’s lips as Medic distributed their food.

Spy’s heart thundered into rhythm as he busied himself with his meal. Sniper’s attention was always welcomed. It made him feel like the most interesting man in the world. In that moment, he would apparently be so captivating that Sniper’s eyes would be drawn to him.

Spy’s lips began to quirk upward but halted in motion when Sniper frowned. A more hurried breath of air fell out of him as he turned away, the tapping at his arm increasing in rhythm.

Oh, that would not do.

Just as Emile moved to get up, the Engineer shot upward, plate in hand. “I’m gonna go, uh, work on my machines. Holler if ya need anythin’.”

The Southerner hurried out of the room and Spy shared a knowing glance with the Medic whose hand tightened on the Heavy’s arm. The Russian, in turn and suprisingly, shared a hard stare with the Australian.  

Emile stood up, eyes deliberately finding Sniper’s in the motion, brow quirking upward. “I will be retiring early as well. Au revoir.”

He deposited his dish in the sink and left the room, deliberately moving slowly. A few moments later he heard Sniper excuse himself and Spy turned around, holding his hand out to the man. The Australian frowned at it, brows furrowing in the process. However, after a brief second, he took it.

“Follow me,” Emile said softly, going further down the hallway and leading Sniper up the stairs.

“Where’re we going?” The marksman asked curiously, tugging on Emile’s hand gently.

“To my room,” He replied. “I ‘ave a few things to say to you.”

He heard Sniper let out a deep sigh and he had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. He pushed the door to his room open, pulling his charge further in and pushing him towards the bed. Emile gestured for him to sit down and Sniper dropped himself onto the edge of the bed, looking up at him expectantly. The Australian took his sunglasses off after a brief pause and Emile nearly smiled at the action.

“What’s this about, Spook?”

“Do not ‘what’s this about, Spook’ to me.” Emile huffed, mimicking the man’s accent terribly. “You are still upset about what happened to me.”

“You mean what _I_ did to you. And yeah I am. That ain’t something you forget after like an hour.” Sniper said, crossing his arms.

“But you are beating yourself up over something that you ‘ad no control over.”

“No control over?” He hissed, standing up abruptly. “Lemme tell ya something, Emile. I had plenty of control over myself during the Blood Moon.”

“What?” He asked in surprise, stepping back.

“It’s true that darker powers influence supernatural creatures during the Blood Moon. But it’s our goddamn choice whether to act on ‘em or not. I damn well knew what I was doing. I knew that feeding from you would more than likely kill ya but I did it anyway. You wanna know why? You wanna know why, Emile? Because…because…because…” Sniper let out a frustrated sigh before pacing the room. He took in a deep breath and continued. “Because I’m a bad person. I’m a shitty, selfish bastard that wants what I can’t have.” Sniper said hurriedly, throwing his hands up into the air.

“I do not…understand.” He whispered, looking up at the man in honest confusion.

“I can’t spell it out clearer than that, Emile. I’m not a good person. I was turned into a vampire _because_ of that.”

“No, no. You are contradicting yourself. That night in the hospital you had told me that you compelled me to protect me. And even before that you kept saying how dangerous you were going to be and that it would be safer if I stayed away.” Spy said rigidly, straightening his back. “You are only seeing the bad, Jack. There is so much more to you than what you choose to see.”

Sniper remained silent, dropping back down to the bed, shoulders sagging.

Emile smiled, stepping closer and taking the man’s head in his hands. “I cannot promise that what had happened under the Blood Moon will not happen again but I would like to think that it will not. And you should not dwell on the things that have previously happened. Especially in our line of work.”

The Australian looked up at him, a sigh at his lips. “You’re right.”

“As I usually am,”

He smirked at that, hands coming up to Emile’s waist. “I’m still terrified of feeding from ya though.”

“There is one way to fix that.” He replied, dropping down to straddle Sniper’s waist. “Exposure therapy.”

The Australian opened his mouth to protest but Emile placed a finger to it, swiftly pulling his mask and gloves off and unbuttoning his blazer. He deposited them both at the center of the bed and loosened his tie, adjusting himself on Sniper’s waist. He paused for a brief moment before dispensing of his dress shirt as well, leaving his neck and collarbone completely bare save for the straps of his undershirt.

Sniper’s eyes were wide, mouth agape as his gaze ran over the newly exposed flesh. “Emile, I don’t think I can—”

“Take your time. Go as slowly as you need or simply tell me to get up and I will.” He smiled, picking the man’s hat up off of his head and haphazardly flinging it in some random direction.

Emile watched as Sniper swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. The Australian moved his hands up Spy’s back, a slight tremor in his movements. The man’s eyes were fixed at Emile’s neck, shallow breaths falling from his lips.

There was something in Sniper’s expression, something deeper, darker. His eyes were still beautifully green but their overall façade shifted slightly. They were unfocused, distant, like when one would daydream of another life. A frown touched the man’s lips but it wasn’t profound. It was more of a gentle indentation.

This expression reminded Emile of old war veterans speaking about the battles they had gone through. They would get that same look when they’d mention the dead, the dying or the wounded. Soldier looked like that sometimes. And right now so did Sniper.

“Talk me through your thought process, mon cher.” Spy said softly.

“I, uh,” Sniper took in a deep breath. “I’m listening to yer heartbeat. It’s the way I want it to sound. Strong and steady. It means that yer alive. I know it sounds stupid as hell but I don’t wanna—wanna—” He stopped abruptly, frowning at himself. “I don’t wanna do anything that’ll change it.”

“Keep touching me like that and you will.”

A chuckle fell from the Australian’s lips, a pleasant and beautiful sound. “I just gotta…get back into the swing of things.”

Spy tilted his head as Sniper leaned closer, breath against his skin. The Australian clicked his tongue, pondering something for a brief moment. Then, he inhaled, chest rising with the motion. He exhaled through his mouth, a shiver running down Emile’s spine as his breath tumbled down his shoulder. Sniper let out a low hum, nuzzling the curve of his neck with such tender care that it nearly startled Spy. The Australian pressed a kiss to his desired area, then another and another, hands desperately grasping at Emile’s shirt.

A shaky breath was released before Sniper whispered, “I’m sorry.” Spy wrapped his arms around the man as he continued. “I’m sorry. I’m not really good with the whole communication thing and I just never told you that I was sorry about what’d I’d done because I knew it would make everything so much…much more real. It would remind me of the fact that I nearly killed ya. It would remind me of my mistakes and what I should have done. It…I…You…Shit...”

Emile pressed his lips to Jack’s temple, fingers tangling in his hair. “I understand, mon amour.”  

Another shallow breath fell from the Sniper before he pulled away. “I can’t today.”

“But you will one day, oui?”

“One day,” His lips curled upward as he ran a thumb down Spy’s cheek.

Emile knew that no happy ending was easy to obtain. And said happy ending still had its faults. Sniper and Spy would continue to have their issues. Emile knew that. But from their issues would spawn beautiful solutions that would lead them towards their desired happiness, a happiness that he had seen in the Heavy and Medic. But even with their joy came weariness and sadness.

But right now, as Jack smiled down at him, this was enough. This, right here, right now, right in this very instance, was enough.       

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is the end to this beautiful story. But don't worry. I'm not completely done with these two yet. 
> 
> Supernatural Blu Team will be continued with a delve into Heavy and Medic's relationship, their ups and downs and a howl at the moon. 
> 
> Stay tuned for more. Love ya
> 
> Vinci


End file.
